My Friend Who Became My Girlfriend
by JamJackEvo
Summary: She's self-centered, addicted to galge, openly displayed pedo-lezzy tendencies, and quite a pain to be around. But... why do I feel like I want to know more about her? And the more I learn, the more my heart beats like crazy. What's happening to me?
1. Unexpected Circumstances

Date written: 28/11/11 – 21/12/11

Posted on FanFiction: 22/12/11

A/N: I had been formulating this little idea about a week before the release of Episode 9, where this story takes place midway, and so I used most of my reference material from the original light novel chapter. The differences between the anime and light novel are miniscule and somewhat insignificant (e.g. Kodaka drinking grape juice in the anime because having a highschooler doing underaged drinking on national television raises plenty of red flags, even for Japan's standards; Sena running out of the mansion, while in the light novel she dashed upstairs to her room), but I wish to stick to the original material (light novel). It makes things more interesting that way.

I'm also partially inspired by a doujinshi by Digital Lover, who interpreted the events a little differently (and also merged one particular scene from Kodaka's second visit to the abode), but I'm not one to have the two main characters bed each other in the first chapter. This story will have romantic moments, fluff moments, and maybe even some mild citrus moments, but a full-on lemon is still being considered. _Considered_, readers, considered. I'm just not making any promises, lest I disappoint those who wish for this to happen. If it ever _would_ happen, and I wish to forego writing that scene, I'd just mention it as if it already occurred. The muse speaks, I write. Simple formula, simple act.

One last thing to mention, I rarely do first-person narrative, and because of that I don't have a clear grasp of what I should and should not write. I might have made Kodaka's thoughts a bit too jumbled in some regards, but what might be my biggest offense would be the super detailed narrative, a far cry from the style of the light novels. I couldn't help it. I was inspired by **gabrielblessing** too much to stick to simple sentences. That, and I have word diarrhea.

Enough talk, on with the story.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 1 ––<strong>

**Unexpected Circumstances**

I let out a long sigh, feeling a bit of the alcohol dull my senses and realizing in hindsight that I should've urged the chairman to slow down on the drinking. Because of my inaction, in both ignoring the warning signs of Chairman Kashiwazaki's impending drunken trip to unconsciousness and my slow sips of the high quality wine the two of us had been drinking, I wasn't the least bit drunk—a little tipsy but my brain functions were still going strong and conscious, like I had just rolled out of bed recently, groggy and in a slight urge to go to the bathroom.

"Great," I murmured, staring at the last spoonful of wine swirling inside my glass, almost enticing me to down it all since I had nothing to lose, "just great." I gave a half-hearted shrug and chugged the liquid down. It reminded me of drinking cough syrup when I was younger, since this wine had the same texture, color, and volume as those times when I needed medicine. The only difference had to be the taste. And the presence of alcohol, which was still insufficient to punch me out cold. Ah well, it wasn't as if I expected much from a spoonful. With my natural tolerance, I might've needed another bottle or so, but inspecting the vintage year of this wine reinforced my decision to let things go as they were. Expensive stuff, that wine.

"I need to get out."

Fresh air seemed like a good idea, but more than that, I had to find Stella and tell her Chairman Kashiwazaki was out cold. She'd know what to do with him, I was certain, though I hoped she would deem it inappropriate for a guest to carry the drunken man to his chambers and tuck him into bed.

I didn't mind helping, but . . . you know how alcohol could loosen the tongue of any man? Well, after learning so many dirty secrets from him like that one where it involved him, my dad, my mom, Sena's mom, some yarn, a foot of nylon rope, kerchiefs, a chess set, a blank VHS, and a ping pong paddle, I thought it best that I keep my distance. At least until my tainted mind brushed the forefront clean as if it hadn't been spilled with a salvo of parental information I'd rather live without knowing at all.

Ah, now I seemed to have gotten confused over how all those listed things come together. That was a good sign; I was in the process of forgetting that scarring conversation.

I stepped out in the hall and chose a random direction. Between my navigation skills inside this unfamiliar abode and my overachieving attempts to lock away some Memories-That-Must-Not-See-The-Light-Of-Day-Ever-Again that I included unrelated, recent stuff as well, I might have gotten a little lost. I didn't know if this was the alcohol taking effect somehow or it was just me going through shellshock from the disturbing revelations between Sena's and my parents and how they—

NO! GET AWAY FROM THOSE THOUGHTS! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! KEEP THE LID ON THAT BOX!

. . . ah, much better. What were we talking about again?

That was when my bladder increased its urge to deflate and prompted me to find the bathroom. It shouldn't be too hard, I told myself, but walking through the hallways without any idea of my location made that earlier remark wishful thinking. I was unsure if it was because of the architecture or the disappear-into-the-distance feel of the hallways adorning this floor, but the longer I walked within these halls, the more my agitation grew. No, agitation was not quite the right word for the emotion I felt. It was akin to that sixth sense feel—a sort of reverse déjà vu, wherein you have a feeling that something your mind just thought out was going to happen in the near future. I didn't have that kind of feeling until that moment, and what made this more . . . unique, you could say, was the divergence of it. No confusion of adjectives here, because that was what I really meant. Divergence.

As if this feeling forked somewhere in the middle, splitting into two paths of two futures.

I didn't understand the significance of this feeling until years later when I experienced the exact same thing just before my wife announced that she was expecting. Twins, one path told me, identical too. The other path offered the same, but the twins were to be different-gendered. I told my wife this, but she scoffed at it. She was only two months along; it was too early to either learn the baby's gender or that she was carrying two lives with two separate heartbeats inside her womb. As the pregnancy progressed right up to the moment of birth, we got our answer—for me, in more ways than one.

But at this time, I was ignorant of a lot of things, mostly about social interactions that should be common knowledge to those who have friends. Guess why I was lacking in that department. And so, because I didn't pay much heed to this odd feeling other than giving it a quick once over like a passing superstitious belief, I was left unprepared to the first step that marked my approximation with the metaphorical fork of the road.

"NOOO! GET AWAY!"

"Come back, Kobato-chan~! I still have to shampoo your hair and wash your front~!"

"NO! Save me, An-chan!"

My little sister, Kobato, hugged me as tight as she could, naked as the day she was born, wet, covered in suds, but crying strongly as if she were harassed by a pervert in a train. Which, if I looked at it in hindsight, wasn't really far from the truth. It was strange, to say the least—my little sister, running inside Dad's old friend's home in the nude—but the strangeness ended there along with most of my mind's thought processes as I gazed at the person following Kobato.

Meat.

That was the only word processing inside my head. Leg meat,_ chest_ meat, thigh meat, stomach meat, _chest_ meat, arm meat, shoulder meat, _chest_ meat, mammary meat, breasts, bosoms, bust, boobs, boobies, tits, hooters, melons, knockers, jugs—

Ah, I think my brain just exploded.

"Ko-Ko-Ko-Kodaka," Sena screamed, finally realizing that I was there and she was as naked and wet as my sister. I knew that she and Kobato went to take a bath, but I did not account for her moe attraction to my little sister could force Kobato to get away from her, even if it meant streaking in the school chairman's mansion. I underestimated both Sena's lezzy-pedo tendency and Kobato's tolerance of said tendency. Knowing her current state of dress, she quickly covered herself, although it didn't calm down my rising libido, as this action in itself just accentuated the fact that she was 'loaded,' and I was not referring to her financial status. "W-w-w-w-why are you here? Stupid! Idiot! Pervert! Ero-Yankee! Eroge protagonist!"

I quickly looked away from Sena, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks and my . . . you know. God, I hope she wouldn't notice. But it was also her fault for chasing after my sister like that; I shouldn't be blamed for having my eyes feast on a moist meat buffet made all the better by two succulent pink nip—

I shook my head violently, wanting to rid myself of unclean thoughts lest I end up getting more aroused than I was now. "That should be my line!"

Sena was at a loss for words. A retort never came out of her stuttering mouth except for one last word she shrieked just before dashing away. "UNIVERSE!"

And there I was, left to console my naked sister in the middle of a hallway. My shirt was getting soaked as Kobato relayed to me all the _touching_ and _groping_ Sena had done to her since they entered the bathroom, but my mind was still in the middle of rebooting after the explosive eye-candy. It was because my mind was a quarter elsewhere that Stella, the silent stoic maid, crept up from somewhere to my right, scaring the hell out of me.

"Uoh!"

Stella stood still, panning her head to the stairwell at the end of the hall, where Sena disappeared to, and back to my face, which was turning paler as the implication of that simple gesture came to me. She saw. She knew. I was dead, not through Stella but through Pegasus once he learned of this, accident or not. I wanted to give my excuses quickly, but I was left into a stuttering mess not unlike how Sena ended up in moments before. Stella stared at me, those unrelenting cerulean orbs boring into me, making me feel small like the towering presence of a tsunami was before me. Her eyes closed and opened again. Closed and opened again. Closed and opened again. All deliberately slow, as if she were a hunter letting prey percolate its fear before pouncing in for the kill.

Even Kobato turned quiet when she realized I wasn't listening to her anymore and my attention was fixated on the butler-dressed servant girl of the Kashiwazakis.

At last, Stella raised one hand and planted it on her cheek, which reddened for some odd reason. "Iya, Kodaka-sama, you're such a pervert." It would've been a normal enough response if it hadn't been delivered in a monotonous tone that it left me feeling like I was being mocked by the obvious.

"No, you got it all wrong," I said immediately, without thinking. "I—I—"

"I understand the situation, Kodaka-sama," Stella cut in. "I was only joking before. Just joking. I believe I had delivered it quite well."

Your voice was too flat to consider itself joke material, Stella-san. Please refrain doing jokes again in the future.

"I make no promises, Kodaka-sama," she said, scaring the bejesus out of me, making me wonder if she had the ability to read minds. Or maybe I was just unconsciously voicing out my thoughts. She turned to my sister. "It's better we get you clothed right away, Kobata-sama. I fear for you catching a cold."

* * *

><p>Later that night, I was faced with a tough choice. This was Stella's act of revenge, I just knew it. She might've placated me after saying she understood the situation, but I had no idea how her mind worked. She had a right to punish me since I'd seen her mistress naked, but I had no fault in that. Me being witness to a sight that could envy any male in our school was more of a consequence to Sena's rash action. She was definitely angry, definitely in the mood to make me to suffer. I did not buy her explanation that each and every room of this mansion was used for storage. How much junk did the Kashiwazaki have to let this occur?<p>

Needless to say, I was not keen on having to share a bed with Pegasus Kashiwazaki. But what choice did I have? The only other option was to sleep on the floor, and I probably wouldn't mind doing so, at least to save myself from the horror of waking up with a clubmate's old man right next to me.

I sighed. "I need to pee."

I also didn't have the chance to get that fresh air I needed. So after doing my business in the bathroom just down the hall, I went back into the bedroom and stepped onto the balcony. The night summer breeze greeted my face. And in the corner of my eye, I noticed the silent flutter of blonde hair flowing along with the direction of the wind. I could think of only two people in this mansion who had long blonde hair, but sadly the younger one should already be fast asleep since it was way past her curfew. That left the older one, my clubmate, Sena.

Sena? Shit, this was bad. I had only taken a glance of it from outside, but I should've thought that there might be a chance to bump into Sena again. The balcony itself covered most of the mansion's rear, spanning from one end to the other, and the bedrooms built to this side were connected to this bridging structure. Sena's room just happened to be next door from mine (and Pegasus's, I unfortunately corrected myself). She was leaning on the railing, watching the sky glitter with the countless stars above. The moon was halved, but there was sufficient light for me to make out the thoughtful expression on her face. She looked cute.

My mind immediately recalled the nude show she accidentally did, and I had more than half a mind to turn around and leave her undisturbed. Talking to her with that image completely burned inside my head was as possible as lighting fire while submerged in water. I needed to get back in and prolong our meeting at least for another few hours. Maybe by then she had calmed down enough and I thought up a plausible excuse to forget what just transpired. Unlike with Pegasus's loose tongue (la dida dida dida, I have no idea what he talked about, la dida dida dida), erasing the voluptuous image of her . . . well, it was just hard okay. Thinking about it would just make it even harder, er, I mean difficult. Damn it, keep it together.

I took a step back, grabbing the door knob and pulling it back to place, but it seemed some deity from above enjoyed screwing with me like it was going out of style, because while the balcony door's hinges were quiet when I pushed the door open, they were as loud as serenading cats when I began to close it. Sena, startled by the noise, whipped her head around, cutting some strands of her blonde hair off from the gentle flow of the nightly breeze. One particular strand stuck to the left edge of her lip, and the sexy images I tried so hard to block returned with vengeance.

I just couldn't get a break, could I?

"Kodaka . . ." she whispered, the wind carrying her voice to my ears. Her eyes were wide with surprise before they widened even more as the shape of her lips moved to initiate an inevitable scream. But none came. She covered her mouth with both hands in time and dashed to the safety of her room.

"Se—" I wanted to call out to her, but two things held me back. One was that I didn't know what to say after calling her. And I doubt she was in the mood for talking, not with the 'incident' still so fresh in both of our minds. The other was much more profound and it resonated in my very being. They were tears. Tears were cascading from her eyes. It was only a glimpse, but their glint via the illuminating moon managed to bring my attention to them. And the fact of the matter was that I was the cause of those tears. The shame she put herself through was too much to bear all at once, and if I were to confront her with this awkwardness now, there was a big chance this could all blow up in my face. The quiet, joyful days of our time in the clubroom might also come to an end, and that, more than anything, was unacceptable for me.

Sena slammed her bedroom door behind her, leaving me to contemplate by my lonesome.

Sure, I didn't take this whole Neighbors Club idea seriously at first, but it was through this club that I had been able to meet Sena, Yukimura, Maria, and Rika. Kobato would've stayed friendless if it hadn't been for this club, too, and though she seemed more incline to fight with Maria than to befriend her, I could see there was a slight similarity of their arguments with how Yozora and Sena interact. They were arguments—pure and simple—but looking deep enough, there was a certain level of camaraderie in between, as if arguing were the only way for them to express their friendship. There was a word good enough to describe this odd behavior, something Rika had said in passing but I couldn't recall it right now. Tsun-something or other.

The incident could very well be the instrument in driving a wedge between me and Sena for a time, and although I believed it was better to let things go as they were and hope for the best, my mind reeled back to those tears and I soon felt nothing but self-loathing. I just made a girl cry and all I could think about was myself? My parents would be ashamed of me if they were here to see this.

"But what to do?"

The answer to that should be obvious, but I was still afraid. Stepping into her room uninvited, placating her, and settling this matter once and for all . . . it was like a suicide mission, and the death rate would eventually end up with just me. Instead of repairing the wound, I might end up aggravating it, worsening it till it became permanent. It seemed a little exaggerated now, but for the me back then, it made sense and that rouse my hesitation. Yet despite that, I at least wanted to make amends, to try to make things right because ignoring the problem was ten times worse than trying to fix the problem and failing.

I approached the door, white and adorned with little square see-through glass panels that made it easy for me to gaze into the bedroom before entering it. The moon was bright tonight, but the roof of the balcony shaded what light I needed to see where Sena was within. With a tiny feeling of fear that fuelled my hesitation—if only for a notch, because I was still dedicated to right whatever wrong that got between us—I stood in front of the door, one hand raised to gently knock it and call her out.

"Sena," I said, my voice sounding a little too gruff, even to my own ears. I cleared my throat and called her name again, but there was still no response.

I knocked harder, called louder. Still no response from my clubmate. I sighed. Who thought this would be easy? I sure as hell didn't . . . although I wished it were so.

My hand clamped onto the lever-styled door handle, fully expecting it be locked, but felt no resistance when I pushed it down. As I inched the door inward, a stray thought came to me. What if Sena screamed when I ventured further into her room? How would the rest of the people in the household react to that? Granted, there was only Chairman Pegasus, who was out cold from drinking; Stella the steward, who slept in the nude and would no doubt come to her mistress's aid; and the cook, whom I never met. But it was just the principle of the matter. I wanted to settle this with Sena alone and keep it all to ourselves if I could help it.

Entering Sena's room was akin to entering a warp hole transporting me to an alien universe shrouded in the darkness of space. Dark as it was, I could still make out a few silhouettes of furniture four or five feet away from where I stood. It would be wise to wait awhile and let my eyes attune to the pitch black darkness, but Sena's soft, muffled sobs detracted me from caution.

A cold feeling came to my heart, making it heavy, making it sink, making it painful. I didn't fully understand the extent of this feeling at the time, but later on it was all made clear just like that reverse déjà vu. "Sena?" I called and the sobs quieted. I was about to call her again when she uttered her reply.

"Wo wah way." It was muffled like her sobs, but I expected such a response so it was easy to translate: _Go away_. I smiled, despite the seriousness of the situation. Her actions just reminded me so much of when Kobato got really upset with me and pursued this same course of action, so that the only way for her to forgive me would be to do the Big Brother Comfort Little Sister Routine.

It also made me wonder if the same method could be used for Sena. They were both girls, yes, but when Kobato had been at an age where receiving comfort from her older brother made her happy. She rarely got upset with me now; the last time she did was two years ago.

If you were to remove us being clubmates, Sena and I were essentially strangers. Sure, our fathers were friends but could we say the same with ourselves? Kobato lets me comfort her because she trusts me unconditionally as her caring brother. Sena and I formed no such strong trust, and after that 'incident' I doubted she'd leave that all behind us. Still, these would not change the simple fact that I made her cry.

And I didn't want her to cry.

I sat at the edge of her bed, which was in a size befitting actual royalty, complete with canopy and curtains and drapes, and I marveled a little on how soft the mattress was before I directed my gaze solely on the large bump under those equally soft sheets. I made out the location of her head, her arms, her legs. She was assuming fetal position, no doubt hugging a pillow under the sheets, staining it with her tears. Her shoulders shook in response to her sobs, hicks, and sniffs (oddly enough, she actually pulled off sniffing her phlegm-filled nose without sound like a snort). I scooted inches towards the head of the bed and planted my hand on her shoulder.

She shook it away violently and said, temporarily removing her face from her crying pillow, "Get out of my room!"

I winced, instinctually in the process of extracting from my comfortable seat to do as she had ordered, but with willpower I did not believe myself capable of possessing, I sat back down, depressing the bed's edge and informing Sena that I wasn't about to leave her in peace. I did this, but I still had half of a mind to resume her order—this situation prodded too many dangerous points for my survival instinct's liking. But would I be able to look at myself in the mirror and say I did my best? I had to soldier on. Turning back now felt too cowardly for me.

I grabbed Sena's shoulder again, harder, firmer. "We need to talk." Yeesh, maybe I should lay off from the TV dramas awhile. I was sounding like a boyfriend telling his girlfriend that they were through.

I expected many reactions from Sena, so she didn't at all surprise me when she shook away my hand once more and shouted, "No!" in that cute, muffled voice again.

Yes, you read it right: I found that cute. Don't ask me why.

Touching her shoulder a third time could lead to dire consequences, so I refrained from doing so. I didn't need physical contact to discuss with her. All I need were my voice and my mind. "I . . . uh . . . that is . . ."

And they were betraying me. Bad.

I cleared my throat and got my thoughts in order. My God, I was a mess. "Sena, we _have_ to talk about this."

She didn't reply, resorting to ignoring my presence, but her ears were still open to my voice, so if I could get her to listen to me then all the better. But I believe just letting her listen would not matter—we had to have this discussion done face-to-face. Anything else would just be wasted effort.

"Sena, _please_," I said pleadingly, "talk to me."

She remained silent.

"I won't say I understand what you're going through," I said, believing that her shame was the driving force of her behavior, "but avoiding me forever solves nothing. Can you at least just hear me out?"

Sena remained still, silent, but as she weighed the pros and cons in her head, she removed the blanket from her head and faced me, her eyes streaming with cascading tears. "All right," she whispered, sounding almost disembodied. She might have decided to have me get this very personal talk moving, but maybe expecting her to face this with confidence—as she usually did in everything else, including galge—was stretching to overestimation. She didn't take embarrassment well, I figured, so I understood that while she was willing to hear me out, she was unwilling to look me in the eye.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>"Again, thank you for letting us stay here for the night."<p>

"No, no, it has been a pleasure." He said that, but he was still rubbing his forehead, courtesy of a hangover that could rival a hundred drills penetrating his skull. He looked that way to me, anyway, and although I and Stella-san advised that he should forego seeing me and Kobato off, he insisted that he should.

"Kobato-chan, let's take another bath next time, ne?"

"IYAAAAH!" Kobato's scream caught us all by surprise that I didn't even stop her when she dashed towards the mansion's gates with unrelenting speed. Forget swimming, she should take up track and field!

Still, her departure left a question to linger. I asked Sena, who stood next to me, "Just what did you do?"

"I-I-I didn't do anything," she stammered, cheeks a healthy pink, hands into fists and raised in front of her chest. "Anyway, Kodaka, you better deliver on your promise."

"Ah." Her words caught me by surprise, but it only lingered awhile before I smiled assuringly at her. "I will. Count on it."

Sena smiled back, cheeks pink and hands clasped behind her. "You're definitely unlike other guys." Before I could say something, she turned towards the gates and shouted, "Kobato-chan, wait!"

_You're unlike other guys_. She said this to me last night as well. A simple remark stemming from her true thoughts of me. I was unsure whether she meant it as an insult or a compliment, mostly because it was too vague of a statement for me to fill in the implications. But if I were to gauge her intent through her tone of voice, which I noted to contain admiration, then she thought positively of me, even though the 'how' and 'why' escape me somewhat.

"You seem to be getting along fine with my daughter," Pegasus-san said behind me. "I've never seen her this upbeat in a long time."

"It's probably because of Kobato," I replied. I wasn't trying to be modest. At the time, I honestly believed she was happier because my sister visited her home. "She's . . . quite smitten with my sister." That was a general way of putting it, if you were to ignore the lezzy-pedo tendencies, which I still find a little disturbing.

The Chairman looked at me, with eyes as calculating as a hawk locking on its prey, before his lips cracked an easy-going smile, and that was a feat deserving true praise because he managed to pull off the smile of easy-goingness with his stoic face.

"Too early, I suppose," he said mysteriously. He crossed his arms. "I know it may be bad to implore this on you, but please, take care of Sena."

At the time, I did not know what the Chairman was asking of me when he said that.

* * *

><p><em>A parting good night was all that left his mouth as well as her own when there was nothing left to be said and when both realized that it was best they get to sleep right away. While having a boy inside her room made her feel embarrassed—no, that was not exactly right. She <em>should_ feel embarrassed, more so when she was wearing one of her more provocative negligee but thankfully he either missed it due to her bathrobe or ignored it in favor of righting some of the wrongs that occurred tonight._

_Sena was faced with shame, relief, and bewilderment. Shame because while Kodaka's apology and effort to make it up to her was sincere, she still could not forgive him for seeing all there was to see about her and didn't even offer to even the odds, you could say. It was the latter part that got her; such thoughts shouldn't even be contemplated, yet there it was, bare and strange. But other than that, what followed was relief because the sudden rift that rose after the 'Incident' had been torn down in a matter of hours. She doubted she'd be able to face Kodaka at all if not for this, much less attend the clubroom even with thoughts of never seeing Kobato-chan again if she began her avoidance. And these two emotions led to the final one, which was bewilderment._

_Why exactly did Kodaka matter to her?_

_Sure, he was a club member and the son of Papa's friend (and Kobato-chan's big An-chan, she secretly giggled to herself), but what more was there about him that made her say those words: _You're unlike other guys, Kodaka._ It came out of her mouth, true, but the meaning behind it eluded her. Maybe she didn't think her words through when she said them, maybe it was something she just felt like saying, maybe it meant nothing at all, she could create a hundred theories but none would come close to providing her with a clear answer._

_She snaked herself into bed, wrapping herself with the blanket and gazing out at the balcony door from where Kodaka had come and gone. She turned her gaze away and it landed on her bedside clock which shone out the four numbers telling her that it was fifteen minutes past two._

"_Over an hour," she murmured to her room, needing neither a reply nor a reiteration. It was amazing how time flew over their talk. It seemed whatever that sparked Kodaka's spirit to apologize also brought him some confidence to actually talk with her. And she was more amazed with herself, who instead of asking him to leave and let her get her beauty sleep, she listened to him and he likewise to her. From childhood memories to middle school dilemmas, likes to dislikes, praises to criticisms, they had a lot to talk about and she found herself wishing that Kodaka hadn't left so soon. Slowly but surely, she began to admit to herself that she liked Kodaka's company and maybe that was why she said he wasn't like the other guys. Instead of a doormat she would walk on, she found herself a male who would walk beside her. Whether or not he would offer his arm to her was a question left hanging, and she contemplated no further than that, afraid of letting her mind wander to dangerous roads._

_Despite that, she already caught a glimpse of what it would be like if her arm were wrapped in his, as if they were showing to everyone that they were an official couple. And her bewilderment just got bigger when she realized she was not against such a thing. Surely she wasn't . . . that he was . . . and they'd be . . ._

"_Go to sleep already," she told herself, wishing oblivion to come take her from these dangerous thoughts. "It's all your fault, Kodaka, acting so considerate." She never realized she had been smiling._

_It was not easy postponing her ponderings at a later date when she'd be more prepared for them, when she'd be more clearheaded to analyze the depths of her feelings, but she managed just as the Sandman came to take her away to the land of dreams._

_Her last thoughts before her eyes shut and never to open until the first rays of sunlight shone through her window were of Kodaka, his promise, and their interlocked arms, beautified by the vane mindset of her imagination._


	2. A Meeting of the Neighbors Club

Date written: 21/12/11 – 31/12/11

Posted on FanFiction: 31/12/11

A/N: It's already the New Year in my country, and I thought about finishing this chapter before I go to sleep. God, I'm tired, so I'll just post this chapter as it is and revise it once I get some shut-eye. The notes after this are just tidbits I added while I was writing the chapter.

The HaGaNai light novels comprise mostly of dialogue between the club members, and it is in their dialogue that the story progresses greatly. Sometimes their conversations lead to something, sometimes they just lead to comic relief, but in either case they were there as if I were reading a slice-of-life novel. This chapter intends to stay true to that format, unlike the previous chapter, which was 85% monologue text. A more HaGaNai light novel feel for this one, guys.

I'm also writing this to address a few patterns in the story I began to dislike severely. I can sum that up with a simple meme: Kodaka Hasegawa . . . Y U NO TAKE ACTION?

HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY READING, EVERYONE!

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 2 ––<strong>

**A Meeting of the Neighbors Club**

The next day, there was a meeting of the Neighbors Club, so it was vital that we were in attendance. Yozora texted me the time, and Kobato and I left for St. Chronica Academy just in the right time for us to arrive at the start of it. I wanted to be punctual, but Kobato demanded a much better offering for today, so I decided to indulge her with my culinary expertise. I made her tonkatsu ramen. I had a little trouble with the broth that I was forced to remake it. Such was the fruits of experimentation; I was hoping to enhance the flavor somewhat.

We entered the clubroom and found the rest of the members already there. Rika was seated on the sofa, reading a yaoi omnibus manga from the looks of it—no, not the book but her face. She looked less content than when she was reading that mecha yaoi of hers. Maria was beside Rika, taking her afternoon nap, which was good because if she had been awake, I would've told Rika to stop reading smut in front of a child—she tainted the poor girl enough with her impromptu Sex Ed before. Yukimura came up to us in his maid uniform, greeting me with a bow as he usually did. Yozora and Sena were in the middle of an argument when we arrived, although the vigor of one dissolved when our eyes met.

"Y—Yo," I said to Sena, who was staring at me for a while now, the relentless calls from Yozora unheeded. Just as she heard my voice, she looked away, flipping her hair with a haughty air to its action. What the hell was that about?

Yozora, having enough of being ignored, grabbed her flyswatter and swatted the back of Sena's head. It must've been a powerful slap because Sena definitely felt the impact, rubbing the spot where she was hit. "What the hell was that for?"

"It's bad to ignore someone who's talking to you, Meat," she said, her arms crossed, the flyswatter held firmly in one hand, resonating an aura of sadistic malice. It made me wonder how could an inanimate object could possess such an aura, but realizing that it was being held by Yozora, maybe she was channeling her own malice to the seemingly harmless insect crusher.

"Maybe because I find our conversation pointless," Sena replied, crossing her own arms—where my eyes treacherously lingered on the bounce of her _meat_ when she did that.

Ignoring her, Yozora said to the room, "Okay, now that everyone is here, let's—"

"Hey! Listen to me when I'm talking, you hypocrite."

"Oh? Did you say something, Meat?"

"It's bad to ignore someone who's talking to you, that's what you said."

"You're correct, I did say that."

". . ."

". . ."

Uh, what's with the sudden silence?

"Well?" Sena demanded.

"Well what?"

"That's all you have to say?"

"Of course, Meat." She narrowed her eyes. "I'd rather not waste any more of my words to a presumptuous lump of rotten meat such as you."

"Kuh! _You're_ the one being presumptuous here."

"Am I? Are you so deluded that you believe yourself courteous while the rest of us are doing our best to show kindness to a stupid deplorable little wretched meat such as you? How unsightly." Every sentence sounded dosed in venom and contained varying levels of insults aimed towards the blonde bishoujo.

"Kuuuuh!" Woah, Sena looked _pissed_. If this kept up, the same old routine would occur wherein Sena would say words spoken out of desperation and despair before dashing out of the clubroom like a bat out of hell. My old response to these confrontations and their same inevitable conclusion was to let the cats have their fight and somehow salvage Sena's wounded pride from the destruction left in their wake—let the cats have their fight, you could say—but today was different. If not for that night at the Kashiwazaki abode, if not for that promise I made with Sena in her bedroom, I would've continued doing the same old thing without any further thought on the matter.

Sena was about to explode with another one of her tirades, which mostly fell short to Yozora's more powerful and malevolent tongue, and if I didn't act quick this would all end the same way.

"Leave it, Sena," I said it as gently as I could.

"But—" Her eyes directed a message that left me stunned for a few moments. Those cerulean orbs were almost screaming 'Traitor' right at me.

Still, I pushed on lest she got the completely wrong idea from my statement. "You too, Yozora."

"Why me, too? Don't tell me you're taking Meat's side on this?"

"I'm taking neither side," I said to them and also to myself, but a part of me was still saying otherwise, saying with firm belief that I was doing this all for Sena's benefit. "I don't even know what you two were arguing about when I got here, so I'm quite out of the loop on this one."

"Then you're not supposed to stick your nose in when you don't know the situation."

"I know, but why can't we all just get along?"

Yozora looked at Sena. Sena looked at Yozora. Both harrumphed as they quickly looked away, swinging their hair highly.

I sighed at this. It seemed a miracle would be the only thing that could put these two people together in a room and not have them end up arguing over the most trivial things.

"So? What is this meeting for?" Sena asked, her arms crossed, bouncing her _meat_, making my eyes betray me once again.

That got the attention of the rest of the members as Yozora cleared her throat for her announcement.

"As everyone here knows, we'll be conducting our training camp tomorrow." She waited for the rest to say their affirmations before continuing. "So for today, we'll be discussing what activities we will do while we're at camp."

"Activities? Like what, Yozora-senpai?" Rika seemed bewildered at first, but somehow, her glasses fogged over and she smiled a . . . very disturbing smile. "Rika thought of a great activity we can all do!"

"Rejected," Yozora and Sena said at the same time.

"Eeeehh? Rika didn't even get to say what it is yet."

"Since it's you, I already have a basic idea of what it is you're thinking," Yozora said. "Completely rejected."

Sena's remark was this: "I'm with Yozora on this. You were probably thinking of a reverse gangbang or something."

"Rika didn't think about that." Rika didn't say this out of confirmation, but out of surprise, as if she were looking at gold but suddenly saw diamonds right behind her. "Yozora-senpai! How about we—"

"Re-Jec-Ted." Her voice was dozed with utter finality.

"Awwwww. Anyway, Sena-senpai, how come you got to that conclusion? Were you thinking of something similar?"

"Eh?" She blushed. "N-no, I wasn't . . . I mean, I just assumed . . ."

"Hehehe, Rika isn't the only one with a dirty mind, it seems~."

"I don't have a dirty mind!"

"You play eroge in the clubroom," Yozora interrupted, "harass Kodaka's little sister with homosexual undertones, and even deem s-s-s-se—the _dirty deed _in your eroge to be works of art. If those are not signs of a pervert, then I do not know what is."

I had got to say, Yozora's words were quite damning that even a stranger would believe Sena was a pervert. Well, it was not like I hadn't already deemed her a pervert, but I didn't look at it as if it were a bad thing. I consider it an odd quirk of hers. Every one of the club had at least one of those. Yukimura with his samurai-like ways and instant belief that by being girly (wearing a maid uniform in the clubroom, a bikini at the pool) he would be more like a man, despite how contradictory it was; Rika with her fascination—more like obsession, actually—of everything hentai that she found no qualms in corrupting herself with some of the most disturbing content in the genre, excluding ero-guro (I hope). Maria with her young age but intelligent mind that she easily became a teacher-nun of the Academy, despite how . . . unproductive the whole idea of her employment on educating people older and more mature than her. My own little sister, Kobato, and her insistence in being a fictional anime vampire character, going so far as to mimic the character's choice of clothes, heterochromatic eyes, and matter of speech. Yozora with her straightforward mannerisms, distorted outlook of rape and sex, and underhanded moves to get her way (at least to Maria, who was easily manipulated due to her naivety). And as for me . . . well, they say a person is often the worst judge of character of themselves, either through ego-inflated exaggerations or evasive omissions, so I couldn't safely say something about myself and not come under fire for being untruthful. Ah, but at least I knew I had a great sense of humor. Don't believe me? I made Maria laugh so hard, her sides were aching. Hah! Sena and Yozora just didn't know good comedy when they hear it.

Back to the topic at hand, Sena didn't take the accusation lightly and lashed out at Yozora again. "I am not a pervert!" I never said she was being creative or genial in her attempt to prove her 'innocence,' pun intended.

"Evidence says otherwise, Meat."

She swore under her breath, clenching one hand into a fist. It might have been accidental, maybe even intentional if I stretched the plausibility of it a bit, but I was sure Sena made eye contact with me, as if she were passing on a message through the use of those enrapturing teal orbs. The expression on her face, the smug smile on Yozora's, and the helplessness of her situation that she seemed more inclined to seek help where she could find it. And I just happened to be someone she could depend on apparently.

"_Anyway, Kodaka, you better deliver on your promise."_

Words from yesterday, acting like spikes holding me in place next to that promise. A promise I had made without really thinking it through, but would follow nonetheless, if nothing else but to ensure I'd never see Sena cry because of me again.

"_I will. Count on it."_

"Okay, girls, you had your fun, you had your fun. Can we go back to the meeting's purpose now?" I interjected, clapping my hands for placation, making my voice sound impatient for added effect to my intent. I wasn't as quick-witted as Yozora to think up well placed insults and the like on the fly, but I had enough experience to break up an impending fight. My friends in middle school (as little as their numbers were then) sometimes got into disagreements and I somehow became their unofficial mediator, taking neither sides yet still wishing to end the dispute all the same.

I believed I still got the touch because Yozora didn't brush me off, but she did look at me as if I just kicked her favorite kitty. "Well . . . I guess. I had my fun for today."

"This is your idea of fun?" Sena yelled indignantly.

"So, other than Rika's tastes, does anybody else have ideas for a good training camp activity?"

"Stop ignoring me already!"

God, I beg of you, please let them get along, at least for the rest of the meeting. If this were to continue, Sena would give from the pressure and flee the room like always.

"Oh be quiet, Meat. If you don't have something to input, then don't speak at all. Better yet, how about I duct tape your mouth to ensure your silence? Even your voice sickens me."

"You're despicable!"

"That is enough!" I shouted at them, shocking them out of their heated argument with uneasy jolts from their shoulders. They seemed to have realized that I was not in the mood for their usual banter in the clubroom. I was often the neutral peacekeeper, but never have I raised my voice like I did now, and a small part of me felt guilty for doing so. It was just small, paling in comparison to the size of the percolating irritation engulfing my thoughts and actions. "If this keeps up we're going nowhere at all."

"Onii-chan is scary-looking," Maria said, hiding herself behind Rika.

"The dominion side of senpai," Rika said, adding a small moan in the end. "Ahhhh, the sound of senpai's commanding voice is such a turn-on!"

And just like that, the irritation I earlier felt vaporized in an instant. With Maria's fearful face and Rika's disturbing opinion, it didn't seem right to be frustrated anymore. I wasn't angry; I have less self-control when I am.

Yozora cleared her throat. She was looking away from me, something I had noticed right away but didn't comment on. "Right. Does anybody have ideas for an interesting activity?"

Already feeling sorry for my outburst, I intended to speak out what I thought up. So I raised my hand, got Yozora's attention, and said my piece outright: "Board games."

"Board . . . games?" This was Sena, surprisingly. Yozora seemed to have accepted my suggestion or at least considered it for validity, but what else could we do there other than do our own thing? It was not like the rest were raising their hands for bright ideas—Rika excluded for obvious reasons. "Like what?"

That was actually a good question. I rarely played board games, even when I was young. I was certain I and my old best friend, whose nickname still escapes me, played one board game before I left this town, but I forgot the name of it. It had been one of those "let's do it for the heck of it" moments in our short childhood friendship, and unlike its brother moments, this one gave us both fun and excitement. We got to imagine ourselves as someone in a purely fictional world of our own making, making up quests and triumphing battles whenever they came our way. It was probably the most fun we had from simple rules and game mechanics. If only I could remember the name of that board game.

"Dovahkiin Labyrinth," Yozora said.

Wait. A. Minute.

"You played that game too?" I asked her, finally remembering the name of that game.

Surprised, she replied hesitatingly, "Uh, yeah, back when I was a kid."

"Rika also plays it! My developer friends from Largehard used that as one of their reference materials for the company's Romancing Saga games."

How exactly did that shitty game become based on Dovahkiin Labyrinth, a super cool game?

"Even Romancing Saga XIV?" I asked, hoping that it was the black sheep of the series.

"_Especially_ Romancing Saga XIV!"

. . . It was better I think little of the inner workings of a gaming company's direction on their games, yet a large part of me refused to let things go. They'd reached the fourteenth installment of a series for a reason, but having it based on the coolest game I've played during my childhood felt more than a mere affront. It made me feel like throwing out a protest for Largehard to retire from developing any more Romancing Saga games. Useless wizards, no enemy attack patterns, all enemies modeled after warasubo, and tutorials ending with killing the final boss. Yeah, a protest seemed a better idea to me now.

"Aniki, how does this board game work?"

"Well, I can't exactly explain the whole thing. I mean it's been some time since I last played it and—"

"We'd still need a copy of the game to play it, though," Yozora interrupted. "Unfortunately I never owned one. I always played the game with an old friend of mine who owned a copy."

"I don't have one either," I admitted. "We moved around a lot and I must've forgotten to pack mine during one of those moves."

"Then we're left with no board game to play."

"That's the not the _only_ board game out there, right? I mean there's still games like, like . . ." Damn, I couldn't think of one. My lack of friends ensured I was as inexperienced with board games as it was. That Dovahkiin Labyrinth had been a gift from our neighbor, thus it was the first and only board game I owned and played. Kobato would've played with me, but by the time she turned five she switched to television for entertainment. Dad was seldom around, so I never played with him. But there should be something I remembered in the shows I've watched where they played board games. A game like, like—

"Ouija board!"

. . .

Crap! Wrong board!

"Nice idea, Kodaka."

Was Yozora being sarcastic?

"No, I'm not. That's actually a good idea. I remembered in middle school that a group of my classmates used an Ouija board while they were at summer camp. They said it was fun."

"But do we even _have_ an Ouija board?" I asked.

"Rika does!" Rika said, her hand raised.

"Why do you even have an Ouija board?"

"Muu," she pouted, "Kodaka-senpai thinks it's unbelievable for Rika to have one."

"Sorry." I scratched my nape, truly apologetic for my bluntness. But you had got to admit, there was no possible connection between Rika the fujoshi shut-in and Ouija boards, unless, of course, she was into that sort of thing.

"It's all right, Kodaka-senpai. And why Rika has an Ouija board is because Rika wants to re-enact a scene from Bible Black!"

I had a hunch. ". . . eroge?"

Rika bopped her head excitedly. "_Satanic_ eroge!"

I didn't know what to say. A teenaged girl playing eroge, I could live with (Sena being the prime example here), but a teenaged girl playing Satanic eroge while enrolled in a Christian school just seemed to initiate a metaphoric tug-of-war between the idea and my logic. But then my mind suddenly realized that the idea involved Rika and so the war ended with a stalemate, the idea no longer having an impact and my logic consenting to the implausibility through the "Rika illogic immunity" treaty. Confusing? Don't worry. It's my logic, not yours.

We talked some more after that, as a club. A few of us even tossed other wild suggestions for the trip. Some were considered, some were unanimously agreed upon, some were flat out rejected. In all the exchanges, I noticed Sena kept quiet, content to just observe the club dynamics and debates rolling around. In a way, I was guilty of similar actions, going quiet right after the whole board game thing. And by quiet, I did not mean silent. I still added my own two cents every time I wish to point something out, and though I often doubt Yozora would require my opinion on club matters, she would always listen.

The meeting started at one o'clock, and by the time we fine-tuned the list of activities we would do for training camp, the day had already passed the seventeenth hour. 5:23 in the afternoon, to be exact. Sena opted to go home via bus like the rest of us, and that in itself was a little suspicious. At least to me and Yozora, who was also less subtle in her approach of this thought. The four of us (me, Kobato, Sena, and Yozora) rode on the same bus, Yozora ending up seated next to Kobato, while I was next to Sena. My suspicion was born the moment Sena rode the same bus as us because I knew where she lived, thus knew which bus to use to get to her home. Yozora confronted Sena about her own suspicions, but somehow Sena worked her way around the accusations and ended their conversation with a dignified harrumphed and a flick of her long blonde tresses. Yozora, indignant but tired, decided to just let it go, although she might have instigated another verbal match if not for my hand on her shoulder, suggesting to her that a fight in public would attract more attention than what we were getting already.

Yozora exited in her stop, which left me with Sena to silently confront her about my suspicion. It was more likely that this was her first time using a bus ride home and that she rode the wrong one by mistake (I knew how that felt), but I still had my doubts. To accentuate that, my curiosity was burning from the tense silence pervading between us that the general chatter of schoolgirls and boys in the bus with us could not diffuse it. We were getting close to our drop off near the train station.

If my hunch were somehow correct, then Sena would end up wandering the city on her own with no guide and no idea where she was supposed to go. And there were plenty of tricksters and sleazy people lurking in the streets, waiting for prey like circling vultures. I hated thinking of Sena becoming one of their victims, so it was either I kept my silence and let my curiosity burn or confront Sena about this.

Somehow, the answer came to me faster than I could think "Confront."

"Why are you really taking the bus, Sena?"

Sena turned to me, her teal eyes shining in a distorted shade as the setting sun blended basked the city in a yellow and orange ambience. She remained silent, pursed her lips before opening them, but then closed it shut as quickly as she opened. There was turmoil floating in her eyes, in her actions. If she didn't act now, the bus would pass my and Kobato's stop. That wouldn't do.

"We'll be using the train home," I said, gesturing outside the approaching station and the railway piercing through its sides. I hoped that this would put her into a talking mood instantly, but this action was an all-or-nothing bet. I was pinning it all on the concept that Sena wants me to do something for her but is too shy to ask right away without the proper motivations. Considering her sheltered life, I probably had a better chance of breaking the bank than going broke.

"Heh?" At first, she hadn't comprehended what I said, but as the seconds ticked by (I counted three), the neurons that proved to her and the school that she was top dog in academics connected the dots just as the bus stopped before a red light. This intersection was the last one before we reached the station, so Sena was in borrowed time. So was I, because I wouldn't be satisfied in letting things hang like one of those cheesy cliffhangers in TV series.

"Will you be all right on your own from here?" I asked, purposefully letting that out to cause a more motivated response from her.

Sena looked to me, then the station, then the stoplight, and then back to me. Within that range of seconds, her face morphed through at least five different expressions ranging from panic to resignation. One particular expression stood out from the others: Embarrassment. The way her cheeks flushed like succulent red apples, the way she bit her lip that she looked lipless, the way she lifted her cheeks upward that her eyes looked squinted. In a nutshell, she was displaying a cute side unintentionally and made my heart skip a beat.

Nodding her head down, as if showing her accumulated courage to a physical action, she faced me again, my dark gray boring into her teal. "Kodaka, I need you."

. . . huh?

"To—To accompany me, of course," she continued, blushing at her embarrassing pause that led to a conclusion far from what she originally intended to convey. She was not used to asking favors and the like, but seriously, did her inexperience actually placed her into this short-lived misunderstanding? Short-lived it might be, the damage done was like touching a whistling kettle—touch, pain, pull back, still feel the burn.

And the addition did not alleviate much of the embarrassment, shock, and dirty thoughts. Damn you, brain!

"I need to do some shopping before we go to the trip," she elaborated. "I'm not familiar with the shopping district. That's more of Stella's forte, so I'm more or less in need of a guide."

Oh, so that was what she meant. Hmm . . . strange, I felt disappointed for some reason.

"Then why didn't you ask Yozora for he—" I caught myself before I finished that sentence. The fact she didn't ask Yozora for help was a no-brainer.

"Where do you think I'd end up in if I asked that stupid Yozora for directions?" She arched her eyebrow at me, her arms folded in front of her, once again lifting and bouncing her _meat_, once again making my eyes betray me.

"No idea," I answered nonchalantly, not really listening because I was busy reeling back from the ero-overload that my brain required time to bypass the glitch in my mental processes.

"Probably get me lost in the middle of the Red Light district or worse."

The stoplight turned green and the bus staggered forward.

"So," she said, "will you"—she looked away, cheeks flushing again—"accompany me or . . . not?" She said that last word with her teal irises pushed to the left corner of her eyes, showing off to me a dangerous yet very effective puppy dog eyes. And she didn't stop there, oh no. She included a _pout_. Argh! How could any man resist such sad-looking cuteness? A small part of my mind, one in the dark corner, picking up dust and cobwebs as the rest of my brain tried to process the overloading pack of blonde cuteness presented in front of me, protested against my initial response. It tried to reason out that Sena did not specify what things she needed to buy and if he was not careful, he'd end up having to buy some galge or, worse, eroge that she's too embarrassed to buy herself. Granted, I'd be underaged, thus the storekeeper couldn't possibly let me buy the latter, but what if Sena insisted I buy it, to rely on my 'scary Yankee' persona to force the responsible storekeeper to sell?

The question was vague and I understood then that to agree was like activating a time bomb. But . . . the puppy dog eyes and pout, the thought of swindlers in the streets and Sena's sheltered naivety, the morals instilled to me from my father and ethics classes—

I delivered my answer and I was given a whoop of joy in return. Either this joy was because she now had a guide (_slave_) or because her attempt to put into real life the _moe_ aspects of the puppy dog eyes in galge had worked, as she proudly pointed out to me, was left to question. I was screwed, one way or another.

Yet why was I feeling happy as well?

I looked at Sena, her smile enchanted by the setting sun outside her window, and again my heart skipped a beat.

Was I happy because she was, too? That couldn't be, can it?

But, looking at her again, having my heart skip a beat a third time, and turning away to inform Kobato of my aborted plan to go home with her . . . in an odd sense, I believed this was so.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

Writing Yozora's dialogue had been a real chore to write. I'm not exactly the kind of guy who equips himself with insults at any moment or opportunity, thus I have to really think hard on a good response before anything else. But this is Yozora we're talking about! I see her insults and interactions with Sena to be ten steps farther from my current position, and so my attempts at acting out her character is incomplete, if not disloyal. Anyway, I tried my best. Yozora/Sena arguments are so hard~!

Dovahkiin Labyrinth – it's a play on Dungeons & Dragons. Granted, I never played the board games, but I know the basic rundown of it. Besides, I also decided on making this fictional game far less complicated than the real D&D, though none can really tell since I won't be going in-depth on its game mechanics and the like. The name itself is an easy play to tell, changing Dungeon for Labyrinth, Dragon for Dovahkiin, which means Dragonborn (FUS RO DAH!).

And lastly, the promise from last chapter will be fully explained in the next one. It isn't that important in the story, but I included the lame foreshadowing in the previous chapter, so it's better I eliminate the thing now before it becomes somewhat reminiscent of a forgotten Chekhov's gun (it also contains potential as a Meaningful Echo or Ironic Echo, but let's not get ahead of the story here).


	3. A Date Does not Consist of Three People

Date written: 02/01/12 – 15/01/12

Posted on FanFiction: 15/01/12

A/N: To be truthful, this chapter was a big chore to write, and when I start thinking writing becomes a chore, my creativity and style suffer gradually. You might encounter, more often than not, places where the narrative is somehow forced or just plain wrong, and for that I apologize in advance. I am not happy with this chapter at all, but it is a necessary thing. Maybe in the revision, I'll remove some useless points.

Anyway this chapter is mostly filler, but the kind of filler that is important for later. A sort of foundation for the plot later on in the story. That, and I wanted some more dynamic interactions between Sena and Kodaka. Sometimes whenever I read the light novels, it almost feels as if I'm reading a summary of the events that are not related to the club and its activities, which is almost a shame because I'm actually quite curious of the stuff this band of sociopaths do outside the club—do they go home together, do they split along their way home, does Sena commute home or have Stella drive her home (and why are all my examples about going home? Why?). All I'm doing here is guesswork, and it'd be quite troubling if the real author filled in that gap of information in later books. But I'm glad this is fanfiction. I have the right and power to sway far from canon if need be.

And lastly, I alluded here to a chapter in the original light novels that never made it in either the manga or the anime, due to its controversial content (rape and _netorare_ a.k.a. NTR). I feel a little sick that I actually laughed at that segment of the light novel. Curious? Read it to find out. It's in the first volume.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 3 ––<strong>

**A Date Does not Consist of Three People**

It was a small promise, a simple promise, something I just said to ease her down and return some of the stability in our supposed relationship, but maybe I was deluding myself for telling myself that. When I made that promise to her, I expected effort to come full tilt from me, regardless of what I initially thought. I didn't know when I started acting out the promise as if it were a special vow made between a man and a woman—if you're a hopeless romantic, you'd believe our situation wouldn't be so far off from that simile—but the effect it brought out in me resonated in my actions from that point on.

One small promise. Just one simple promise, made out of comfort, out of duty, out of redemption.

"_I promise to take responsibility."_

The words conveyed an open-ended intent, and Sena managed to capitalize on that. In truth, I was unsure what I was supposed to take responsibility _for_. They were merely words said out of the blue, no rhyme or reason behind the statement. Sena must've seen my promise as a collar she could wrap around my neck and attach it to a leash she would hold in her hand. The mental image of it made me cringe, and I absolutely had no intention of becoming a slave dog for her to have fun with.

Yet I misread her feelings completely and it was pointed out to me, clear as day, barely a minute after I uttered those damning (are they really?) five words inside her dark bedroom. She didn't wish for a slave; she no longer saw me as a potential slave at all.

Despite the bad first impressions we had of each other—me thinking she was too spoiled for me to tolerate, her thinking I was another one of those mindless brutish Yankees slinking in schools because I had nothing better to do in my life—we moved past that . . . er, somewhat. I still thought of her as a spoiled rick girl, but at least I had gotten past my biases and no longer mind her company. I also hadn't realized until then that Sena looked past my exterior and observed me closely during our clubroom activities, like my flat out rejection of a rape scene involving her from Yozora's scriptwriting craze (she understood that I abhorred the act, not her, and I doubted she ever considered the latter at all). Maybe that was where she started seeing me in a different light. A delinquent would've jumped for the chance to act out a scene that degrades the school's beautiful princess (her words, but I'm not complaining). Even though the Neighbors club's acting career never got off from the ground—due most likely to Yozora's scriptwriting craze coming to an end and her repudiation of the plot we thought up together—she might've decided to return the thoughtfulness I exhibited at the time by slipping the chance to make me her dog.

"_Take responsibility, huh? Well . . . then . . . you owe me. You owe me big time. Understand, Kodaka?"_

"_Uh . . . huh?"_

"_It basically means I'm converting that promise of yours for a favor. A _big_ favor, mind you. You're not getting off the hook that easily."_

I expected her to be less merciful than she had been, but I was not about to look at a gift horse in the mouth so I agreed to her proposal. I owe her one giant favor. That was all.

* * *

><p>You would think that she cashed that favor by now, but she didn't, said she was saving it for a special occasion. If I were a lesser man, I would've said no to her request when she wanted to buy something in town. Kobato and I would've stopped at the station and left her on her own, unless she opted to pull out that favor card and make me escort her around town. If only I were a lesser man. If only.<p>

I have noble intentions and upstanding morals, and I stuck to them like glue throughout my middle and high school life. I was approached cautiously because of my frightening appearance and people's unreasonable grasp on stereotypical appearances. I had very few friends because very few people knew that they should not judge a book by its cover. I only had one true friend and the last time we saw each other was close to a decade. The relationship between me and Sena . . . I didn't know how to describe it. We were not really close enough to be friends, despite us already going out once, calling each other by our first names, revealing to her that our fathers were good friends, and me being invited to her abode. At best, we were comfortable acquaintances. But I still did not take the opportunity to remove the favor I owe her. We were acquaintances, yes, but if you grew up having very few friends and those who weren't your friends did not want to have or do anything with you, an action born from fear and prejudice, you would be fine with what Sena and I had. It was a lot better than being strangers, after all.

Nobody got off the bus once it reached the station. Kobato looked tempted and I would've urged her to go home without me too, but she refused. Unlike me, she tolerated Sena as long as the woman kept her hands where Kobato could see them. Without that, she couldn't possibly think about spending some time alone with the woman, not after the incident in the Kashiwazaki abode still fresh in her mind. But I still let her think about her decision before the bus could pass the station—come with me and Sena or go home alone.

I was surprised when she chose to stay. And Sena looked quite ecstatic.

"Ahhhh, Kobato-chan! I knew you were just being tsundere with me."

I doubted that. I most definitely doubted that. Kobato wiggled her way to my back, pinning me between the girls as a makeshift obstacle. That didn't deter Sena; she just believed Kobato's deredere side coming out was a very rare opportunity.

"Are you sure about this, Kobato?" I asked her a third time, feeling fear for her now that I had a closer look of Sena's pedo-lezzy face.

With this difficult decision coming onto her again and her confidence seemingly dwindling after Sena's declaration, which included grabby-looking hands and an offsetting grin, the pedo-lezzy look of Sena Kashiwazaki, Kobato hesitated answering. But, with courage I never knew or saw in the years I'd known her, she remained firm with her answer and refused to get off the bus.

I just sighed and hoped Sena kept the hugging and cooing to a minimum. What made this quite sad for Kobato was that they were both women and their foreign blood dominated their looks. To a stranger's viewpoint, it would just look like an elder sister expressing her love to the younger. Kobato might not make much of a scene if ever Sena decided to shed her restraints (I hope), but I was the only one she'd turn to for help once things come out of hand.

As the bus entered the busier roads of the city, I asked Sena, "What exactly are you going to buy?"

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that," she answered nonchalantly.

"I prefer a straight answer."

"They're just things for the summer house tomorrow. You'll know when we get there."

It was her way of saying that this conversation was over, but I was unsatisfied. "Things like what, food, a new swimsuit, propane for the stove, beach stuff?"

"You'll know when we get there," she insisted, sounding a little frustrated.

Okay, then. Two could play at that game, missy. "We're still near the station. Kobato and I could still make the train."

"Ahhhh, wait!"

Didn't think it'd be this easy, not that I was complaining or anything. "What's with the secrecy, Sena?"

"Well . . ." She hesitated, and that did not bode well for me. "I just wanted to surprise you, I guess."

"There's a good surprise and a bad surprise. With you, I can't tell which it would likely be."

". . . is that your way of implying you'd rather go home than help me shop?"

"Well, no, I mean . . ." I took a deep breath. "I wasn't implying anything other than my uncertainty. That's it."

She stared at me, eyes narrowed, then closed as she sighed through her nose. "I thought about what you said during the meeting."

"Oh?"

"Yes. That board game you played when you were a kid. I want to try and play it too."

"So you're planning on buying it at the toy store?"

"Yes."

"Then why bring me along? You could just use your phone to search for toy stores on the map. Or even ask Stella-san for help."

I didn't know why she suddenly went quiet, looking away from me after I witnessed the blush blossoming from her cheeks. Was she turning away from embarrassment? Whatever for?

". . . bout it."

"Huh? What was that, Sena?"

Her shoulders rose, head bowing low, and my ears caught a whispery breeze of nasal exhalation—a fancy way of saying a sigh through the nose. I was certain she was preparing for a declaration that required another accumulation of courage to actually release it from her lips. Without turning to me, in a clearer voice she said, "I never thought about it."

I resisted the urge to sigh myself, this one not out of the same reasons as Sena. If she were this hard to handle every moment, every hour, and every day of the week, I probably would've lost my patience long ago. Seriously, not even Kobato was this clingy and dependent on me—now, anyway.

"Not even asking Stella-san crossed your mind at all?" I asked, hoping that her dependency hadn't gone too deeply, but at the same time hoping that it had. Her dependency meant that I was needed, and when I was needed, especially from her, it made me feel like we were much closer than mere acquaintances. It felt like having a friend again.

"She can't go. She has to accompany Papa to a dinner party tonight."

"I see. But why aren't you attending the party too?"

"I decided not to go." She huffed and proceeded pouting. "That jerkass boy would probably be there as well."

"Jerkass boy? Do I even want to know?"

"He's the son of St. Thomas Academy's chairman. You know St. Thomas, the sister school of St. Chronica?"

"I've heard of it." It was a more prestigious school than St. Chronica, populated with rich kids, rich kids, and _really_ rich kids. The sister schools were founded on opposite sides of the city, and though I only heard about this in rumors, there was a bit of rivalry between them. I myself hadn't met any students from St. Thomas, least because I didn't go out other than to shop for groceries and the like, mostly because I hadn't had the chance to see what their uniforms looked like. I might have seen one or two of them on the street on my way home, I might have not. It was not like they had giant neon signs above their heads stating they were enrolled in the most prestigious school in the city.

"Well, the jerkoff likes to flaunt his supposed skills, beauty, and popularity. Hmph! The little imp makes me ill."

"Because you see him as a rival?" I knew in my heart that this was not the case, though.

"Because I see him as an incorrigible fool who honestly needs to know his place!" There was a mad sheen in her eyes that told of years of held frustration, but that was probably just my imagination. I mean, how could I tell what she feels from a simple glance at her mystifying teal eyes?

"You're both children of a school chairman," I said. "He must've seen you as his equal."

"Equal, my foot," Sena replied venomously, almost hissing out the sentence. "The guy is like a walking ad board. Using big words, making statements and proclamations that are both true and false, and having no shame to state as such to anyone around him. It was funny the first few times he did it, but now it's just plain annoying."

My suspicion had peaked during Sena's explanation, and I decided to take a shot at the dark. "Did he badmouth you?"

Sena harrumphed again before assuming a cocky pose. "'Why, my dear Sena-hime, you look so _lovely_ this fine evening,'" she said in imitation of a male voice. "'The way your dress accentuates your eyes and hair, while also matching my suit, which was tailored personally by a famous fashion designer in Paris. Ah, surely once we walk through this party, arm-in-arm, onlookers will see beauty and grace befitting of my stature.'"

". . . huh?"

"Basically," she said, reverting to her normal voice, "he tries to be flattering and didn't notice his compliments were directed at him than me. Hmph! If he wants to impress a girl, he should pay more attention to her than himself."

"So . . . he's kinda like you, then."

"What was that?" she growled, eyes befitting a lioness that is observing its prey.

"Nothing," I answered quickly. Thank God for my survival instincts.

"Frankly, I'm sick and tired of his wooing. Ugh!"

"Well, I can't blame the guy for trying," I said without thinking, and hadn't understood the implications until afterwards.

"Eh?" Sena's cheeks were flooding with the color red. "Just now, what did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything, forget I said it," I retorted hurriedly, wishing that my damn mouth had kept that comment to itself.

"You just said—"

"Forget about it," I insisted.

We lulled into an uncomfortable silence, and it remained that way after we got to the shopping district and went off the bus.

* * *

><p>Crossing through the street didn't sound so bad, but if you were to consider my current company, you'd rethink that earlier statement. Sena, the beautiful blonde bishoujo, to my right; Kobato, the cute blonde gaijin-looking girl, to my left; and me, the Japanese boy with dyed-looking streaks of blonde hair, standing firmly in the middle of these two eye-catching sights. I wondered what the people thought of us, of me specifically. Maybe my relation with the girls on either side of me, making me recall a time before Yukimura joined the club and I confessed to Sena and Yozora the likeliness of a stalker following me. It ended up being Yukimura who was the stalker, but the rumor of me taking two innocent women as my personal slaves had already spread. Some of the rumor's variation emphasized Sena's role, ranging from taking pity on me to having a thing with bad boys.<p>

Either way, the stares were annoying and discomforting. I felt like a black ant in a colony of red ants, as if I were entering hostile territory but the people here opted for cease fire than an all-out gun assault on my hide.

"Hey," Sena said, her voice almost whispery, forcing me to work out her words through the ambient sounds prevalent in the busy shopping district, "do you get the feeling that we're being watched?"

Yeah, I figured that out ever since we got off the bus. Outwardly, I replied, "Just ignore it."

"How can I? It feels like I'm being looked at from the inside out. Gross." She nervously rubbed her forearms with a faint shiver coursing through her body. I could tell by the sudden hunch of her shoulders. This reaction surprised me a bit.

"Don't you have plenty of admirers at school? Don't the boys usually do the same?"

"While I am admired by the male population as their queen, I never felt anything as . . . potent, you could say, or even dangerous as the stares I'm getting now."

"You're not the only one being stared at, I'm sure."

"How can you tell?"

"I've been through this before. Because of this." I pointed at my head. "Most of the time, they'd ignore me. Just a delinquent walking through the street, nothing threatening or anything. With you, on the other hand . . ."

I paused, and remained paused.

Sena, curious and impatient, tried to urge me. ". . . well, if you want to say something, just say it already."

I couldn't, not because I didn't want to, but because it felt more embarrassing to say out loud. It sounded much more natural when I reviewed it in my head, so why the sudden burst of shame?

"Dude, look at that girl over there. Sweet hotness," said some guy reclining on one of the benches to his friend, pointing at us, his voice ascending into an annoying squeak at the last two words.

The other guy, wearing a black and purple hat with a fleur-de-lis on the brow, looked towards us and whistled. "That's some hot piece of meat right there."

Sena twitched, one hand already forming into a fist. She would've gone on with her tirade, thus instigating a confrontation not unlike the one she made when we went to the pool together the first time, if not for me stopping her in time. My hand locked onto her forearm, giving a slight pull to let her know I wasn't about to give her the chance to pick a fight.

"Let me go, Kodaka," she hissed. "How dare they . . . they . . ."

"Ignore them, Sena." My resolve was absolute. Her orders wouldn't sway me no matter what. "Just ignore them."

She moved her lips to retort that, but sensing the seriousness in my gaze (I had not yet contemplated she might've actually been intimidated) she relented. We walked away, not hearing another word from the two men whose gazes had already moved on to a group of girls behind us. Or so I wish, but they managed to speak one final exchange that was within my hearing range.

"Too bad that girl already has a boyfriend."

"A fine girl like that with a delinquent like that? Her snatch must already be loose."

I wanted to ignore their biting words, but my ire couldn't be ignored. At least I had more self-control, so the worst I could've done to them was a heated talk down that hopefully would not degenerate into hurtful blows. None of the sort occurred, but I did look over my shoulder, glaring at their backs so profoundly that they shivered in their seats. Unfortunately, other people noticed my glare and they cowered away from me. Dammit all.

Neither Sena nor Kobato had heard what I had heard, but they did look back to inquire why I suddenly stopped and looked over at the two guys. Sena was more demanding of an answer than Kobato. I'd rather keep the nature of my stop from Sena—it was dangerous to have her find out, because no amount of persuasion would stop this girl from fighting the two guys over the suspicion of her purity—so I lied to them, saying I thought I saw the hat-wearing guy somewhere before and looked back to double-check. He wasn't, obviously.

The streets became more crowded as we continued our trek, and I instinctively grabbed for Kobato's hand. I didn't want her to get lost if I could help it. Our destination was still eight more blocks from here. I shifted my gaze from the growing crowd flooding the street before me to Sena, who was still seething.

"Don't tell me you're still mad," I said.

"I have the right to be mad!" she snapped, prompting a few heads to look our way, stares of contemplation, stares of confusion, stares of knowing, stares of disapproval. They varied in their emotion, but I did not know this from observing each and every one of those who looked. This just came from experience and understanding the baser functions of the human psyche and society.

"Look," I replied, entering lecture mode, the tone of voice my Dad uses whenever I or Kobato did something bad, "that won't be the last time you'll come across a scumbag checking you out like that. The world is filled with that kind of people, and the best way to deal with them is ignore them."

"That doesn't make sense! It's like you're pushing aside a problem than trying to solve it."

"I said it's the best way to deal with them. Solving it isn't as easy as a few simple steps, and truthfully it'd be more of a hassle than anything. Do you want a repeat performance at the pool?"

She quieted, recalling the incident of how she was close to being punched by one of the guys she insulted to a deep degree. If pushed a certain way, her tongue could be as venomous and deadly as Yozora's. To have her lash out would just be a recipe for disaster. By the conceding expression on her face, I believed she had come to the same conclusion as I.

"Let's just go to the store," she grumbled, going for my hand and dragging me and Kobato through the crowd.

I believed she hadn't realized the image we were creating out of this subtle, yet intimate, contact. Not that I was complaining or anything . . .

Which I found odd. Hmm . . .

* * *

><p>The toy store.<p>

When was the last time I had actually stepped foot on one like this? I could barely recall, but I remembered browsing through the shelves and my eyes fell upon one of those puzzle cubes. A part of me wished to buy it and try my hand at solving it, while another part saw no interest in exercising my brain with assembling uniformed color codes. You should understand that kind of feeling—part lazy, part reluctance, part I-don't-really-give-a-damn.

If you do, then guess what I was feeling now as Sena and Kobato stepped into the toy store, their eyes glinting with delight and wonder that it made me question their actual age.

Kobato, childish-looking as she was, could avert special attention from the clerks and customers because they'd just assume her to be someone's kid running amok in a toy store. Sena, on the other hand, was anything like Kobato in that particular situational immunity. It was better I keep her attention on the goal before she started wandering off like Kobato had. I'd let my little sister have her fun. Besides, I doubt she'd tolerate Sena's presence any more than she already had. She would need time to unwind and recharge, you could say.

"Excuse me," I said to a passing store clerk, who suddenly turned rigid as his eyes drifted from my natural dirty blond and brown hair to my eyes.

"Y-y-y-ye . . ." He coughed, cleared his throat, gulped, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. It was crooked; it was pissing me off somehow. "Yes, what is it, dear customer?"

His tone was pleasant enough, but I knew that it was just flattery. And you can't spell flattery without FLAT.

"You wouldn't happen to have Dovahkiin Labyrinth, would you?" Sena asked from behind me, subtly trying to wiggle her wrist out of my grip. No way was I leaving her unattended, despite her being of the same age as me.

The clerk scrunched his face in thought, once expressive and fearful eyes squeezing into foxy slits. "A DL board set, huh? Yes, I do believe we have one in stock. Would you prefer the Fus or the Lok edition, ma'am?"

"Fus or . . . Lok?" She tilted her head to the side, adding a level of cuteness to her confusion. Gah! I was thinking dangerous thoughts again.

"Ah, I see we have a Paazvahdin in our midst."

"What are you talking about?" Sena and I asked at the same time, though hers was a little more tinged with annoyance, assuming that what the clerk just called her was derogatory. I would've assumed the same, but I had more experience with people saying something derogatory at someone through obscure and sometimes archaic words. It was in the tone in their voice, and from what I sensed in this clerk's, he seemed to be complimenting Sena, alongside a tinge of passion I had no idea of and could not identify precisely.

As if he had encountered this reaction hundreds of times before, he did not waver at Sena's halfhearted glare and the slight narrowing of my eyes (even something as miniscule as that could scare off people, much as it pains me to admit it) which, unlike Sena's, stemmed from my pondering. He gestured to a faraway aisle and walked towards it, not looking back to check if we were following.

I looked at Sena and she looked at me, both of us inquiring the other if it was okay to follow this guy. Seeing an answer from the hesitant Sena would not be forthcoming, I shrugged helplessly and followed the clerk. He was on the job and the customer should always be right or something to that effect. I had no doubt he was quite harmless.

Sena, falling in step with me and within hearing range of the mysterious clerk, said, "What was that you just called me earlier?"

"Oh, that? That's just a word in the Dragon language in DL. Ah, that's short for Dovahkiin Labyrinth. Not to be confused with Digital Lover, of course. Hmm . . . I don't mean to be rude, but has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like one of Digital Lover's female characters in the D.L. Action series?"

He was speaking in a form of speak in the Japanese language that was very foreign to my ears. Sena was in the same both as me, but she was still able to answer negatively to whatever question the strange clerk just asked. It barely made sense.

The clerk turned to me and . . . did he just wiggle his eyebrows at me? What the hell? "And this guy must be your boyfriend, isn't he?"

"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!"

"I'M NOT HER BOYFRIEND!"

Our responses were quite instantaneous that it not only surprised the clerk and nearby customers, but us both, too.

The clerk quickly bowed. "I'm sorry for my rudeness, sir, ma'am. It just that he looks a whole lot like the love interest of the woman resembling you. I guess I assumed things and stepped out of turn. Again, please forgive my rudeness." He did one more bow when he uttered the last sentence.

"We look just like a couple in . . . whatever it is that you said, and you instantly think we're on the same boat?" I questioned straightforwardly.

"Pretty much that, sir."

I sighed. Really, how could he mistake me for Sena's boyfriend? I mean, I was way out of her league, much less in her boyfriend radar.

"What was the name of the series you mentioned again?" Sena asked the clerk.

"The D.L. Action series, ma'am" the clerk replied with a smile. "It doesn't have an official publisher so you can only buy them at Comiket," he added, "which won't be until a few more weeks."

"So it's a manga?"

He nodded before coming to a halt. His hand gestured to the shelves at our left. "There are two versions of Dovahkiin Labyrinth, Fus and Lok. The original board set is Fus, while Lok is . . . more or less, a standalone expansion of DL. If you wish . . ."

His explanation of the two versions stretched for almost half an hour. By then, Kobato had already rejoined us, having browsed through every aisle in the store while we stood there, enraptured at the interesting part-tale part-mechanics of the board game. This guy . . . he really knew his stuff, and it clearly showed that he was a frequent practitioner of a children's board game. Did that mean this game was more mainstream than I first thought? Or was this guy just an enthusiastic hobbyist of Dovahkiin Labyrinth?

"So, ma'am, have you decided on which to buy?"

It was only made clear to me now that maybe there was a third possibility. This clerk was charismatic—it was plain to see with how he enraptured us with his words—and maybe he used that to his advantage, reeling in potential customers in a shorter fishing line and a more enticing bait. His silver tongue did magic, and although it was probably time consuming, the efforts he put into it would often be rewarded with customers leaving the store with lighter pockets. The wonders of marketing.

Sena's eyes had twinkled minutes within the clerk's razzle-dazzle, and I was probably the second least surprised to hear her say, "Oh I can't decide, so I'll just buy both!"

"Very well, ma'am." He smiled that crooked smile. Ah, now I see why that pissed me off. It was a smile that conveyed this intent: _Another sucker for me to exploit, muahahaha!_ I encountered a few vendors with this typical mindset, and I made it a goal to not be suckered into their attempts at making a sell.

"Hey, Sena." My words fell on deaf ears as the clerk pulled out two sets from the shelf and escorted Sena immediately to the register. I sighed, my shoulders dropping. I gave up. It was better Sena learn from experience than from my prodding. And who knows? Maybe buying both sets would enhance the Dovahkiin experience.

* * *

><p>I had believed this was the only stop Sena had in mind, regardless of her insistence earlier that the board game was just one of the things she was going to buy today. The time was reaching six in the late afternoon, and my eyes traced the sun, which was closing in on the horizon. Once we had left the toy store, we went to the mall for her next stop in shopping. Kobato looked a bit tired, but she was willing to soldier on than go home now. I had no idea why, but she seemed miffed at the closeness between Sena and me. I was no idiot, though. I could tell she didn't want me to be alone with Sena, but the reasons for that eluded me.<p>

The next item on Sena's list was apparently a secondhand bookstore, by the looks of it. That was a little odd because I never pictured Sena as one who hits the books, and I meant other than for academic purposes.

"I'm not here to buy a book," she said nonchalantly. "The clerk at the toy store told me this place sells the old releases of the D.L. Action series."

"You mean the series where we looked like lovers?"

Maybe I shouldn't have said it so bluntly and in such an insinuating sentence, because now I looked away from Sena in embarrassment, imagining the two of us being in a relationship as those two fictional characters. I didn't need to be told my face was turning red. Kobato pouted beside me, her eyes narrowing at Sena's direction.

Sena merely nodded at my inquiry, but since my head was turned away she had to affirm it vocally. She stepped towards the small store. It was long in dimension, but long did not translate as wide, for the store was as narrow as a single aisle. The register was located at the far end, tended by a girl in her late teens with pink hair and round rimless glasses. Books were sorted by genre and media—mags at the entrance, paperbacks at the rightside middle, hardcovers at the leftside middle, and manga and miscellaneous stuff near the register, each category subdivided by genre. It was pretty well organized for a store of secondhand goods.

"Aren't you coming in?" Sena's face peered over her shoulder, and she saw me standing where I had been awhile now.

I shook negatively. "Nah, I'll sit this one out." I pointed next door, which was a music and video store. "I'll browse around here instead."

She seemed hesitant, but nodded at me. Her eyes glanced at Kobato, who noticed her gaze and immediately grabbed onto the rim of my shirt. I gave Sena a resigned expression before making my way to the video store, my little sister tagging along behind me.

* * *

><p>As time moved on and the hour reached the nineteenth of the day, it was a blushing Sena I found waiting for me outside the video store, a small white plastic bag beside the red plastic bag that contained the DL board game. When I opened my mouth, she cut me off by saying, "Don't even ask, Kodaka." She must've known what I was going to ask before I had the chance to voice it.<p>

I didn't understand her reluctance in elaborating the origin of her blush, so instead I eyed the white bag in her hand suspiciously, somehow believing that if I stared at it long enough, Sena would start singing like a canary. No such luck. She just told me to knock it off. Clearly she was too uncomfortable to even speak of the bag's contents, and respectful as I was with a person's privacy, I gave up trying to find out.

"Did you manage to get that series?" I asked instead. This was in no way a go-around of my investigation. Nope.

Sena stiffened a bit, blushed harder that it reached the tips of her ears, and nodded. Meekly, I might add. An action I found quite cute. At least I knew what was inside the bag, though the cause of the blush still eluded me.

"Will that be all?"

Sena nodded. "Yeah, I think that's everything. What did you buy?"

Her eyes were directed at the little bag I was carrying. "A movie. For the training camp." It took me some time to pick a perfect movie for the club, and I had no doubt that what I chose would be universally agreed as a movie befitting the goal of the Neighbors Club. However, that did not mean I would let Sena know which movie I actually picked. That would have to remain a surprise until it was time to watch it with everybody. But then a stray thought hit me: "Your summer house has a Blu-Ray player, right?"

She raised one eyebrow at me, a lopsided smile on her lips. "You bought a Blu-Ray without checking if we had a player there?"

I shrugged. "If you don't, we could just watch it in your PS3 at the clubroom."

"Hmm . . . point taken, but unneeded. We do have a player at the summer house."

"Well, thank goodness." I lifted the bag to chest level, expressing a bit of pride at it. "Cause I can't wait to watch this."

"So what movie did you pick?"

I shook my head and lowered the bag. "That's for me to know and for you find out and watch."

"Oh come on! You can tell me."

"Sorry, Sena, but no can do." I then added, "Unless, of course, you're willing to tell me why you were blushing?"

She stiffened, stuttered, and finally shook her head violently, the strands of her beautiful blonde hair swaying with her movements.

"Then," I said almost authoritatively, "no spoilers." I then felt a tug on my sleeve. "What is it, Kobato?"

"An-chan, can we go home now?"

I checked the clock on my phone and just realized it was already past seven. Our dinner usually started exactly at eight and my cooking required at least a half-hour to finish. I found nothing to disagree with Kobato's request except for one small thing.

"All right," I said to her, and watched as her somber face turned gleeful, "but we have to stop by the supermarket first. We don't have enough ingredients in the fridge to eat dinner."

"Eeeeehhh~"

I said to Sena, "I guess that will be all for today."

"Hold it, Kodaka."

"What is it now? Don't tell me you have something else to buy?"

"Well, not necessarily." She blushed while looking away. "I could always postpone it until after the training camp, so . . ."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to accompany you to the supermarket," she proclaimed. She crossed her arms, giving my eyes a meatlover's feast of bouncing you-know-whats, where I reacted by looking discreetly away after two seconds of staring.

". . . is that your way of repaying me escorting you?"

"If you want to look at it that way, then fine by me," she replied. No hesitation or anything. "Personally I want to do research on how commoner's go to the supermarket."

"Whatever for?"

"For Retsu-chan in _Sweet Girl Zeta, Memorial Edition_." It was here she began her voice of limitless adoration. "Ahhh, to fully understand the commitment she makes to her family, doing all the chores, the shopping, the many ways to save money for her little siblings' schooling—"

"Yeah, yeah, I think I get the point." If she were to get into the mood, she wouldn't shut up until she was either satisfied or Yozora put a stop to it with her flyswatter. Unfortunately the latter option was out or I would've chosen that first.

"I doubt you do." She glared at me, though it didn't have much intensity to it as when she did it before. I guess she was finally learning some restraint.

* * *

><p>Our shopping at the market brought with it a few surprises of humor and humiliation. On one hand, it was actually fun going to the supermarket with the clueless Sena. No, I didn't take advantage of her ignorance of 'commoner shopping' to do something bad; I was not Yozora. It was fun because I had someone to talk to while I thought over what to buy and go on a short mental debate if the carrot on my right hand was a better pick than the one on my left. Her questions were also welcomed, because she found my thorough examination of almost everything in the items I picked to be curious enough to warrant questioning. It was there that I began an excited speech not unlike the one the clerk in the toy store had done. I doubt she'd instantly cling to my method of supermarket shopping as a thing-in-life-that-should-not-be-missed, but I at least had the chance to show some passion in what I do and be proud of it.<p>

She even inputted some opinions she heard from the chefs whenever they made extraordinary dishes and she asked why it tasted so delicious. And like a sponge, I absorbed these useful tips for my own endeavors in the kitchen, inwardly hoping that I'd one day be as good as those Iron Chefs. It was almost surreal. If someone from school were to see us, they'd think we were having fun with shopping as a date. For everybody else . . .

"Ah, young love~. To be young again," an Obaa-san, walking by, remarked.

Her fellow old lady replied, "Oh hush now. They're probably siblings."

"Oh! You could be right. But I don't think so; that boy's hair doesn't match the girl's."

That was just one incident where we were mistaken for a couple here.

"Fresh orange juice! Freshly squeezed! We're giving free samples." When the crier saw us, he pulled out two cups from the pile and came to us. "Here! A sample of our fresh orange juice for the lovely couple."

You think that was funny, embarrassing? You haven't read this next one yet.

I got the ingredients we needed for the week, so it was time to check them at the counter. Kobato rejoined us, carrying in her arms a bundle of sweets and an empty cup of the fresh orange juice. When it was our turn on the counter, I let my eyes wander around as I waited for the cashier to finish her sweep of the items in my basket. I espied the collection of razors in display, idly thinking if I still had some spares in the bathroom, before they settled onto a square little blue box next to the rows of razors.

I was in the middle of reading the label when the cashier said nonchalantly, "The condoms are 600 yen, sir."

For one second, the words didn't register. Another second ticked, and then another. But as I realized I was standing right next to _Sena_, of all people, and after two instances in which we were mistaken for a couple, my mind instantly connected the dots just as Sena voiced what was in percolating in my head.

"EEEHH?"

"No, wait," I said to the cashier, "we're not—"

"It's better to be prepared, sir." She seemed quite calm even after saying something so embarrassing. Not only that, her hands weren't even shaking when I inadvertently glared at her, as if she understood my gaze did not bear hostile intent. "Teen pregnancy has been on the rise nowadays. The manager thought to raise safe sex awareness and start selling them."

In the back of my mind, a part of me that wondered why a supermarket was selling condoms had his answer.

"But like I was saying, we're not—"

I was interrupted once more, this time by Sena. "We're not dating or anything! That was uncalled for."

She raised an eyebrow at her, then looked towards the items she scanned. She then stared at me before returning to the items.

"What?" I asked, already feeling a sinking in my gut that this woman had more embarrassment ammunition in her arsenal.

"An interesting choice of food, sir," she said. "Eel and turtle. Interesting."

I think I turned pale, because unlike Sena, who didn't get what the cashier was trying to say, I knew what those two things had in common.

They were said to be natural aphrodisiacs. I didn't pick them with that thought in mind. It was just that I had been engrossed with my explanations and Sena's questioning that I thought it wouldn't hurt to be more extravagant than usual, not to mention there were some exquisite dishes of eel and turtle I had been itching to try for a while now.

"My apologies, then, ma'am, sir." She didn't sound the least bit apologetic, not even with that last remark of hers. Her calm demeanor and unwavering movements . . . they kind of remind me of Stella-san. She swept the last item on the scanner and told me the final price. And just as I was handing her my money, she said, "Are you sure I might not interest you in some condoms _for the future_?" She emphasized, implying that me and Sena were not dating _yet_.

"N-n-no thanks," I stuttered, trying to ignore the searing glare Sena was directing at me and the cashier.

The woman gave me my change and grocery bags. "Thank you for shopping. Please come again."

The least you could do was smile when you say that, you know.

* * *

><p>"Haaa, what an ordeal."<p>

"The nerve of that woman," Sena said as the three of us walked to the train station. We used the train earlier to reach the local supermarket I frequent—that stoic woman must've been a new employee—and now we were going back there to see Sena off, who was, by the way, still mumbling angrily at the cashier's rude insinuations.

"Uhm . . . sorry about that?" It was just like before, when Sena had to face certain rumors from the girls in her class, wherein they believe her hanging out with me since the start of the club was because we were dating. And just like before, my apology was the only condolence I could give, even though it was not exactly my fault the rumors started. I still felt it was because if not for me, they wouldn't have spread as wildly as they had. Wait a minute . . . did I just apologize for existing?

"You sh-sh-should not apologize for that, Kodaka. You did nothing wrong."

Again also like before, she turned down my apology, deeming it unneeded. I had mixed feeling regarding that.

The clock at the station read **7:47**, and a small check at the train schedules for tonight confirmed that the next train wouldn't come until **8:00**. Kobato wanted to get home quick so she could have me cook dinner, and since Sena would most likely take offense at my offer to stay with her until the next train—her pride had already been pushed to the limit today, so I was not about to let myself be the straw that broke the camel's back—I bid her goodbye and made my way back home.

As Kobato and I turned the corner, I saw a bunch of guys idling around. Their getups were of the hip-hop variety, like fans and rappers of the underground scene, or maybe they were part of some gang who wouldn't accept members unless they dress this way. I didn't know, was unsure, and wanted to remain ignorant. Kobato, scared of their presence, used me as her personal shield. She hid at my back when they were in front of us, at my side when we were passing them, and at my front when we were walking away from them. Something about that bunch tugged a memory in me. It was recent, thus I it felt like a very strong wave of déjà vu, yet I couldn't really place a finger on it. All I knew was those guys looked dangerous somehow.

I most especially didn't like leer on that one guy's face, the way he traced his eyes on the hidden figure of my little sister. I would've glared right at him, but that might've provoked his group, which would bring forth a crap load of problems I didn't have the strength to deal with. If it came to a fight, I could take two or three, but these guys were like brutes and I was outnumbered six to one. I'd be out of my mind if I tried to pick a fight with them. But still, I keep going back to that leer on the guy with the hat. Hat . . .?

Oh, now I remember! The purple fleur-de-lis on his hat. I knew I recognized him somewhere before. He was that rude guy at the mall.

I looked over my shoulder—an instinctive, almost involuntary, action whenever my mind went through a revelation of any sort, as if looking at the subject of the revelation more would further cement the fact's iron-clad truth. We were too far to get a proper look on the guy's hat design, much less his face, although I didn't see the significance of that since I could barely remember the look of it. But looking back still served some purpose. A very important one.

They were gone.

And I meant gone. All five seemed to have departed from their idling when my sister and I faced our backs to them. Which direction they went, I had no way of knowing, but there was a sinking feeling in my stomach I couldn't quite place.

My phone suddenly began to vibrate. It was a call from Sena.

"_Kodaka!"_

"Ow! Geez, Sena, you didn't have to shout." I could barely make out her words, though. The signal was awfully bad.

"_Kodakaaaaaa . . ."_

Now that sinking feeling seemed to have grown exponentially. Even from the rough reception, I could make out a hint of panic from her voice.

"Sena, what's wrong?"

"_Help . . . me . . ."_

CLICK!

"Sena? Sena? Sena? Hey, Sena! Are you there? Answer me! Sena!" No matter how much I wanted to deny it, reality could not be swayed by my mere wishes. And if I stood there having a one-sided screaming contest with my phone, nothing would change the simple fact I tried to deny.

Sena's phone call . . . ended prematurely.

I stared at the spot where the five men were, then back at my phone. Haha, surely I was wrong. Surely I was overthinking a bit; this kind of thing only happens in TV dramas. No way would it happen in real life. Sena was probably just overreacting with something, and with the bad reception of our call, I might've missed some words between her two audible ones.

I dialed her number and put the receiver to my ear. There went the first ring, the second, the third, the sixth, the seventh . . . why hadn't she picked up yet?

. . . Sena?

"Sorry, the number you dialed cannot be reached. Please try your call later."

The mechanical voice of the operator did not calm my panicking heart, and as the ominous beeps resounded in my ears like thunderous drumbeats, I dropped the bag of groceries to the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

I love cliffhangers. Don't you? *troll face*

Also, I inserted some Chekhov's Guns in this chapter. Don't tell me them (because I already know, duh), because I'm not about to tell you which of them is true and which is a mere red herring. Just think of the implications and their effects. Nothing percolates the imagination more than a good ole fashion brainstorm.

There's also a shoutout to Digital Lover and their contributions to the ever-increasing publications of BokuTomo doujinshis. This is 18+ material. Please, those who are below that, refrain from reading this.

And for those wondering, Paazvahdin is a word in the Dragon language. It means 'fair maiden,' and it fits Sena quite well. For the clerk, it meant more than just one way, Sena is innocent in both body (mind is already corrupted by eroge) and knowledge of the wondrous world of Dovahkiin Labyrinth, of which the clerk is a huge fan. Also, Fus came from FUS RO DAH (Unrelenting Force) and Lok from LOK VAH KOOR (Clear Skies).


	4. Sena, The Unpredictable

Date written: 17/01/12 – 01/03/12

Posted on FanFiction: 03/03/12

A/N: The first thing I wish to say is that the reason for the long delay is due mostly to my hectic schedule. I write tidbits of this chapter during my freetime but that's all I was willing to give. This chapter was a chore because most of what's written had been done while I was still stresses out over the reason why I had not updated for so long.

And the reason why I haven't updated for almost two months is because of my status as a _College Senior_. For this month, we'll be tackling our Finals, and if all goes well, I'd be graduating next month. Apart from Finals, what do college seniors need to finish as a prerequisite of graduation? Thesis. Deep researches and tests and calculations and statistical analyses and budgeting and accounting and presenting and paperwork and it goes on and on and on. Do you see why I haven't updated at all? There were the occasional moments during those stressful days where I sat down and wrote something non-BokuTomo (specifically, a bunch of Fate/Stay Night omake that were formulating in my head) because I found myself empty when I opened this chapter's file.

But don't think for one second that I'm abandoning this story. I've invested a lot of good ideas for this fic's future; I don't intend to scrap them at all. I've only updated now because I accumulated enough words to make this a valid chapter (valid for my eyes, since it reached the minimum requirement for chapter length) and that I've just finished up with one of the biggest and stressful 24 hours of my life: presenting our thesis to the faculty. And we passed—thank you, God, for heeding our prayers.

With nothing else to say on my end, here's the chapter.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 4 ––<strong>

**Sena, The Unpredictable**

For a while I just stood there, looking at the phone in my hand, emotions distorted by shock and fear. Wild, forceful, poignant. They wrenched into my heart like poisonous daggers, piercing through with little resistance. I couldn't fathom the depths of the darkness these emotions contained, only that they harbored such malevolency that a bit of that fear was channeling upon itself, as if I were experiencing a mild case of autophobia. But among the shock and the fear, I also felt anger. No, something stronger. Rage.

My mind conjured an image of the five-man group, them leaving their little smoking spot and coming towards the train station. The image then turned into some panoramic video of what they did in that place. I saw Sena, waiting patiently on a bench inside, checking every few times at the station clock. The men approached, the one with the hat showing his leer like it was going out of style. A few words were exchanged, and without me there to keep her in check, Sena lashed out at the group, unmindful that she was alone and the ones she was talking down on were a bunch that looked like real troublemakers. And then . . .

I was not psychic, I never displayed or experienced any kind of paranormal activity, and I sure as hell didn't believe much in all that superstition. But what I _did_ have that was as close to precognition as humanly and logically possible was my gut feeling. Call it an innate sixth sense or a part of my instinct, call it whatever you want. What mattered to me was that I had these gut feelings from time to time, and when they came, they came for a reason. And my gut was telling me to head back to the station _now_.

"Kobato," I said, fighting every ounce of my panic, fear, and anger so as to stay in control.

"What's wrong, An-chan?" she replied, her vampire persona absent from her voice and mannerism. "Did something happen?" While she did not get along well with Sena, mostly due to the woman's pedo-lezzy tendencies, that did not automatically mean she wished for something bad to happen to her. For better or worse, Sena was a member of the Neighbors Club, and that in itself gave her reason to show worry.

"Stay here with the groceries. I'm heading back to the station for a bit."

"Then, I—"

"Don't!" I snapped, belatedly reeling back the rage in me, and I winced when I saw my sister take a step back in fear. "Just . . . don't follow me, okay. Let me take care of this myself."

"An-chan . . ."

"I'll be back. I promise."

Her eyes told me she wanted to believe in my words, and somehow she did because her response was bowing her head and then a slow, almost unseen nod. For Kobato, that was good enough of an indicator that she did believe in me. If she didn't, she would've fought tooth and nail to keep me from facing danger. A danger that hadn't gotten to Sena just yet, I hoped.

* * *

><p>My feet hit the pavement like the shots of a Gatling gun, never giving myself the chance to rest or slow down, not until I reached the train station. A few beads of sweat rolled down my face, and though Kobato and I had walked less than ten blocks from the station, these beads were bluntly connoting my lack of physical endurance more than my classes in P.E. Due to my isolation whenever there were sports activities during that class and the last time I actually pushed myself was months ago, a time before my family moved back to Touya city, I was physically inactive since my enrolment in St. Chronica Academy. A mad dash for five blocks was already making me pant, but I didn't let up. I didn't want to. I demanded my body to move, move, move, defiant to how much I was straining my leg muscles to fulfill this.<p>

Five blocks. Already halfway there.

The crowd parted from my path like God commanding the seas for Moses and his group. I barely registered their surprise, their light scolding (these were from older folks who have lesser reaction time to move out of the way, and even then, they see it as their responsibility to get a word out on today's youth, hoping almost wistfully that the voices of old could still inspire the new), their indignation, and even their defiance. The latter could roll up to stupidity and absent-mindedness, because my goal was greater than my common courtesy. I must've pushed half a dozen people—not too strong to make them fall, but at least enough to have them take a step or two—and I honestly did not care. Maybe later, once hindsight began to reel my rash actions to me like a bunch of my baby photos shown to strangers, I had little trouble in wanting to kick myself repeatedly. With spiked soles.

Hindsight, however, wouldn't be visiting until later that night, when I was in the covers of my bed, trying and failing to get some sleep. Right now, all my mind and instincts yearned for was arriving to my destination with the least time wasted. My lungs were in need of oxygen. My heart was pumping blood like crazy, this one born from both anxiety and the physical exertions I kept forcing on myself. My mind temporarily shut down nonessential activities to concentrate on the task at hand and two words that flashed about like giant neon signs in my subconscious.

_Sena. Protect._

I was reminded of the time when I came to her rescue in the pool. It had then been easy to understand her being friendless if she talked that way to every stranger she comes across, but that situation was worse than talking down on normal strangers. And this situation now . . . now I was not there to save her in time.

_Protect her. I _will_ get there._

I turned the corner street, the roof of the train station already in my line of sight, but I gave myself neither comfort nor a pat on the back for coming this far. I had not yet met the criteria of my goal, to protect Sena. That was what mattered. With renewed vigor—just the sight of my destination alone brought me strength—I dashed into the station.

My feet scratched the shiny surface of the tiled floor as heat radiated around me like I was in some portable oven. My breaths were heavy and bountiful, and although sweat was becoming a nuisance—with its incessant wish to block my vision as it cascades down my brow—I didn't let my eyes blink unless it was necessary. The station was packed, but I thanked whatever deity resides in the heavens that most of the train patrons were raven-haired. There were the odd redheads (too red to be natural) and light brunettes, so they stuck out like sore thumbs in the black sea. And that was perfect. Sena's blonde head would be easy to track this way. But—

"Where is she?" I murmured, spinning around, observing near and far a trace of pale yellow contrasting with the blacks of the people and the whites of the walls that saturated this place. I spotted a myriad of heads, yet none contained the features I was looking for. There were times where I spotted yellow, only to curse in disappointment when the parting of a crowd revealed it to be colors of an ad or poster.

Dammit, where was she? The longer I searched, the more my unease grew. It grew at a point where I was involuntarily showing my scary face—the close cousin of my smiling face, but with less fear factor. A part of me had thought about this possibility, tried to prepare me for it, but I shirked from that notion as strongly as a man moving out of gunpoint. Loaded or not loaded, it was still dangerous, and if I were to even contemplate that Sena might've already been taken by the hatman's group, I would've gone berserk. This was not an exaggeration.

Before I could begin searching for her in another part of the station, I spotted a trace of blonde hair coming in and out of my view from the sea of people. My movements stopped, and although my heart retained its fast beating tempo, it almost seemed to me as if it had stopped momentarily to give me a second of reprieve and let my thoughts process what I was seeing. It wasn't from a poster this time; the hue and pitch looked too natural for it to be paint. It was hair. That blonde hair . . . it was Sena's . . . it had to be.

I started walking to where I saw her, making my way through a thinner crowd than what I had been seeing minutes ago. As my approach closed the gap between us, a latent fear began to take shape within me.

_It's not her. It couldn't be her._

_She was already taken; why would she be there?_

_It's a case of mistaken identity. The moment you step out of the crowd and see the owner of that dazzling blonde hair, it won't be Sena._

Ignoring them would state denial. Accepting them would state resignation. Both were unappealing, yet I had to choose the lesser evil. I thought about the chances of that mop of blonde not belonging to Sena, but I did what I could to downplay its importance. I was very fixated in finding her that I'd erase any doubt wishing to slither into my mind. To push forward without doubt would leave no second thoughts upon me, but if I were to be wrong about my assessment, that the blonde hair I'd seen was from the head of a different person, the revelation might crack my resolve. To push forward _with_ doubt, however, would keep my hopes from skyrocketing, thereby if I were to be wrong, the disappointment would've been expected.

Yet I chose the former, never wavering, never hesitating. My very being knew, understood, and felt that the blonde person in front of me, sitting on a bench just beyond the thin crowd, was Sena Kashiwazaki.

I came within a foot from her slumped form, her head bowed to the floor, shadowing her face but not her hair. Pale blonde hair decorated with a blue butterfly ornament on the left side. She must've either heard my approaching footsteps or saw my shoes, because she raised her head up to identify who it was that came before her.

Teal eyes widened in surprise and elation. "Ko . . . daka?"

* * *

><p>"Let me get this straight then." We were sitting in the same bench Sena was on, and the nightly crowd in this place dwindled after Sena told me everything I needed to understand why this was so, especially for this train station, which received heavy dose of passenger traffic during the peak hours of the morning, noon, and night rush. "There had been an accident north of the city and it caused all trains heading north to be out of service for the rest of the night."<p>

She nodded, a little anxious once she discerned the frown I was sporting. My eye might've twitched a few times, but I doubted she'd seen those.

"You couldn't get home this way, and you don't have enough money to use a taxi."

"Mama and Papa were adamant about spending money wisely. They made sure I keep on me just an adequate amount of pocket money to teach me how to save, I suppose."

"A hotel is out due to that, too. And you don't have a credit card."

"Papa took it away after that one incident." She looked a little remorseful when she said that.

"And with no place to go and no place to stay, you called Stella-san for help." My frown was digging deeper, morphing my face into a sight that scared away a businesswoman walking past us. I didn't care. My mind centered on the explanation Sena had given me minutes ago. "Unfortunately," I continued, "Pegasus-san got a bit too enthusiastic with the alcohol at the party."

The Kashiwazakis were invited to a dinner party by one of Pegasus-san's associates, the Chairman of St. Chronica Academy's sister school, St. Thomas. Sena forewent the party because she wanted to buy something, tagging me along as her belatedly hired guide. And this somehow random whim did not stem from her desire to avoid an annoying courter who would no doubt be present in the dinner party. No, sir, not at all.

"Pegasus-san got drunk, so he and Stella opted to stay the night at the mansion of the Chairman of St. Thomas."

"The chairman insisted in them staying the night. And you surely know by now how out of it Papa can be once he has his hands on the wine glass."

More than you know, Sena. More than you know.

In truth, I had a hard time remembering the events of that one time the chairman and I drank vintage wine. I probably drank a whole lot more than I thought, if this black section in my memory was anything to go by, but what made this all the more confusing was my lack of a head-splitting hangover the morning after. Pegasus-san had to nurse himself with it while he, Sena, and Stella bade us farewell at the front door. The worst my head had to suffer through was working with only three hours of sleep. Hmm . . . the only conclusion I could think of was that I consciously—or subconsciously—repressed whatever transpired between Pegasus-san pouring that first glass of wine in front of me to when I stumbled out the door and saw voluptuous meat that set my libido ablaze—

Okay, not thinking that again. Don't think it. Don't think it. Don't think it.

The best way to do so would be thinking of something else. Like continuing the conversation. "Stella-san suggested that you come stay the night with them, but—"

"And sleep in the same roof as that pig?" She huffed; she was too sophisticated to allow herself to snort disdainfully. "I'd prefer sleeping in a gutter."

Is that so? I wanted to see how far her conviction would go, but that would mean digressing from the topic of our discussion. "Refusing that," I continued, "Stella-san suggested one other option."

This was where she seemed hesitant to reveal. I realized while she explained to me her situation and didn't force her to say it. It wasn't very relevant at the time, but once the pieces come into place and the picture began to take form, ignoring this would be like ignoring a missing vital piece of the puzzle. Although, I already had a good idea where this would go. Sena was currently a girl with nowhere to go, after all; this was not rocket science.

"Uh . . . yeah," she said, facing away from me but I still saw the redness of her ears through the spaces between her hair strands. "I . . . well . . . that is to say . . . Stella said . . . t-t-that I-I-I-I . . ."

Her stutters just got worse, rendering it impossible for anyone to figure out what she was saying. I sighed, despite myself. And then grasped her shoulders, surprising her out of that stutter frenzy. "Take deep breaths." She did as I let go of her. I believed it was time for me to say what was in the forefront of my mind. "So you were never in any danger."

"Danger?"

Yes, Sena. Danger. If I looked at it logically, there were a few inconsistencies since I dashed to the station. For one thing, there was a ten block gap I had to traverse to get there, which meant those guys had to travel that same length, and they were probably in no hurry unlike me. That meant I should've bumped into them midway, but I didn't. For another, if those guys really did get to the station before me, I imagined their attack on Sena to be in an empty train station, yet the concepts of the mind sometimes do not coincide with the scene in reality. It was just eight in the evening, far from the late hours wherein this kind of image would be close to possible. The only time it would be empty was when there were no more trains for the night, and only the north rail tracks were temporarily out of service. Besides that, there would've been security in place, which could disrupt the situation before I even got there. These observations were in hindsight, however, so I had to take the plunge in being played for a fool, if unintentionally. It made me feel like one of the farmers after the kid cried wolf.

"What are you on about, Kodaka?"

I took a very deep breath with my eyes closed. If I had not, I might've snapped and lay out every bit of my worry and frustration at her, no holds barred, no mercy, completely relentless. A headache was beginning to grow in my head like a fast-acting parasite, and I tried to nurse it with rubbing my forehead, taking my second deep breath, and letting the breath out in a long, steady blow. When my eyes opened once more, they saw the flicker of anxiety in Sena's expression. I was certain if I had looked in a mirror, I might've reacted the same. She didn't outwardly flinch, but she must've understood—partially or wholly mattered little—that she was about to hear an earful, a scolding that would put the argument we had at the pool to shame.

But I didn't. The anxiety was enough to stop myself from exploding right in her face, which would no doubt bring forth a batch of consequences and frustrations on both parties that might very well end up driving an irreparable wedge between us. Sena was prideful, and although she had more tolerance than I gave her credit, I wasn't about to test just how far I could let myself go before she snaps.

"You made me worry," I said in my normal voice, a little thankful that the deep breaths helped control the growl I would've involuntarily let out. "I thought something bad happened to you."

"Of course something bad happened!" she retorted. Whatever fear she felt towards me was overwhelmed by her own indignation, as if she believed I was downplaying the unfairness of her situation.

Tough luck; I wasn't backing down.

"Really?" I asked, raising one eyebrow, arms crossed, looking at Sena like a father in the middle of hearing whatever excuse his rebellious daughter concocted to explain why she got arrested.

"I've got no other choice but Stella's suggestion. I asked for your help, but . . . but . . ." She fidgeted in place, intertwining her fingers together as her thumbs instigated a halfhearted war against each other. "I-I-I got nervous and panicked. Then . . . then my battery died on me before I could even ask you."

My arms dropped to my sides, the edges of my anger shedding from my heart like old, dead skin. Low batteries, I remembered her saying it during her explanation. What perfect timing for _that_ to happen. A misunderstanding born from a dying gadget, huh. I guess there was a first time for everything.

The least she could do was not make it sound like a desperate plea for help. Just saying.

"Ask me what, exactly?"

Sena remained silent. She bit her lip, didn't meet my eyes. She was fidgeting again, too.

"Sena?"

She mumbled something.

"Sorry, what was that?"

She mumbled again, neither increasing in volume nor being more intelligible. She seemed to curl around herself like the leaves of a touch-me-not plant. Her hesitance was obvious and I'd be pretty dense to puzzle over this behavior, still. She was reluctant to repeat herself a second time, the contents of her message probably too embarrassing for reiteration. Too bad for her I wasn't about to be patient.

"Sena, either you tell me now or I'll just ask Stella-san." This was a bluff because I had none of Stella's contact information. That, and I already knew what this suggestion entailed. So why was I insisting that she tell me even when though I already know? Payback. She made me worry for nothing; it seemed justified that I watch her squirm for a bit.

. . . I never thought the day Yozora would influence me could come. Never.

She turned to me, surprised, apprehensive. But she relaxed like she just realized something. "You don't _have_ Stella's number."

"Are you sure about that?" I retorted with ease. Lying was not my forte, but there came times that the disability was absent, like now. However, I put little faith in this actually working. Sena was anything but gullible after all—well, most of the time.

She didn't buy my lie for even a second. She crossed her arms, jiggling those pair of bouncy _[meat]_ like dribbling basketballs, and I mentally slapped myself for entertaining perverted thoughts at a time like this.

"Oh?" she said, her face expressing utter doubt. "Why don't you prove it, then. Call her now."

_I should've thought this through_, I thought to myself. Now my bluff would be called out if I didn't act soon. Well, the right—and easiest—thing would've been to yield, but something in me refused to back down, almost crying out 'A real man never gives up! Even when the opposition is too strong to overcome, stand your ground and never look back. Fight till the end! Die with honor in your heart and soul!' A line that'd fit right in with today's shounen manga. Why I happened to come up with this in my head was a mystery. I was not retarded like Naruto, not as carefree and all smiley like Luffy. I might have gotten down Ichigo's scowl, but I was friendless while he was surrounded by his nakama and gaining an unbelievably positive reputation from friends and enemies alike without much effort—hence, I deemed BLEACH to be the most unrealistic representation of high school life. But whatever the case was, the cry sure helped boost up my confidence. I was pushing forward without a plan, I knew that, but if I didn't move at all, Sena would've pinned me at a corner and struck me down. At least in this case, I could have more time to think on the fly and come up with something.

"Well?" Sena asked, derailing my train of thought. Her lips formed a very small smile—it was subtle, but it was there all the same—and one look at it steeled my resolve. She _expected_ me to back down, huh? Well, I was about to prove her wrong just as a devious plan formed in my head.

"Fine," I said, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone. "You asked for it."

My plan was simple: act as if I were having a phone conversation with Stella. In hindsight, it was a very faulty plan that anyone, even Sena, would see through the moment I say "Hello?" into the receiver. But the me from then found no wrong in it, felt no hesitation to act on it.

As I perused through the phonebook, simulating the act of finding a person's contact number, my phone began to vibrate while a catchy tune sang through its tiny speakers. I realized a second later that I was receiving an incoming call from an unknown number. I glanced at Sena, then back to my phone, observing the combination of numbers that flashed in the center of the phone's screen. My finger was already hovering over the green Call button when second thoughts began to sprout, eliciting a far different opinion from my automatic response to have the call connect. Curious as I was to know who exactly would be calling me, I did not believe that the conversation would go as well as anyone would think. It could just be someone who dialed the wrong number, someone making a prank call, or maybe a telemarketer offering products I had no real use for. What amounted that to was the likeliness of me not wanting to have a real conversation with the one on the other end of the line, thus prompted my hesitation. But I also had to think of common courtesy and some of the values my Dad imbued to me during my childhood—he always seemed enamored with The Golden Rule by Confucius, so maybe it was better to take a page from his book. Besides, as I took a second glance at Sena, this could help me think up a pseudo-conversation.

I pressed the Call button and put the receiver to my ear. "Hello?"

"Kodaka-sama," a female voice, a little distorted but still quite recognizable, more out of the tone of monotony than the familiarity of the voice's sound.

"Stella-san?"

"Eh?" That was Sena, and she was more surprised at this development than I was apparently. A moment passed where both of us must've believed that the phone in my hand was really Sena's—that would've made more sense to Sena, who did not believe my bluff that I was in contact with her butler—but it was just a moment. It was born and given a natural death like so many other hypotheses that were considered but eventually scrapped.

I intended to ask the female butler how she knew my number when she cut me off. "That is not important now, Kodaka-sama," she said, and I was believing more and more that she was an actual mind reader. "Are you with Sena-sama right now?"

"Uh, yeah, she's here with me." I glanced at Sena while saying this.

"Most excellent, then. Has she told you about 'it' yet?"

"If you mean how she's stuck here with nowhere to spend the night, then yes."

"Not that exactly, Kodaka-sama. I was wise, then, to have called you. Sena-sama must've been too shy to ask you herself."

You were most wise indeed, Stella-san. Now realizing that the jig was about to be up, Sena did the opposite of what I assumed was the time for her to give up. She was dedicated, if not downright stubborn, to keep me in the dark. Seriously, what was the big deal? I already knew what Stella was about to say, but it was better to have actual confirmation than go along with theories, as convincing and obvious as they might turn out to be. Sena made another attempt of snatching my phone, but she was too predictable. The result was me holding onto her wrist—gently, of course; I didn't want to hurt her—while giving her a warning glare that clearly said, "You are going to stand there and let me hear everything I should know." It got across, so when I released my hold of her, she just sighed and waited for the inevitable.

"So," I said to the butler, "what was it about?"

"I shall be frank, Kodaka-sama," Stella replied, and I suddenly had an uneasy feeling coming from my stomach. "Please let Sena-sama sleep with you."

. . . eh?

What . . . did she say just now?

"S-s-sleep with Sena?"

A second later, I slapped my hand to my mouth, cringing with all the embarrassment I would receive from saying such a thing out loud. In public. In a train station where some passersby gave pointing looks at our general direction. Sena just stood there, head bowed, blushing so severely that the brightness of the ketchup contrasted with the mustard.

"Correct," Stella replied. "Since Sena-sama has nowhere to go, could you let her spend the night at your house, is what I meant?"

Oh . . . ohhhh . . . she meant that. Hahaha. I see. But—

"Couldn't you have worded it better? I mean, the way you said it . . ."

"You told me to be brief," she cut in harshly. No, it didn't sound harshly—the monotony in her voice never faltered—but I could still sense her accusatory tone when she emphasized _you_. It made me wince. "I thought I had made it clear and concise enough."

Too concise and not clear enough were more like it, actually, but I did not dare say that to her.

"But if you have actual intentions of sleeping with her, then you should have bought those condoms at the market."

"Geh! NO! NOTHING OF THE SORT!" I denied vehemently, but when I looked towards Sena, she was cringing and near to tears. She must be thinking we were discussing her living arrangements for tonight, and because of my great vehemence, she concluded I did not want her to spend a night at my house. "No, wait, Sena, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," she interrupted, her voice strained, her hands shaking. "Sorry for troubling you."

"Sena, wait a moment." I grabbed her wrist, stopping her from walking away. "I'm okay with you sleeping over at my house. Stella-san and I were discussing something different."

"Oh? Oh . . . is that so?" She tried to hide her relief, but it fell short. Her personality suddenly made a 180 when she added, "I knew you wouldn't turn down a goddess like me!"

Women . . .

Depressed one moment; elated the next. I just don't understand them. Like how Stella suddenly suggested those condoms—

Wait . . . did she just say I should've bought those condoms at the market? How could she have known . . .

No, it couldn't be. She was busy taking care of a drunken Kashiwazaki in another side of town; I must've just misheard her.

I said to Stella, "I assure you, nothing like that will happen."

There was silence on the other line. Then: "Okay, I trust Sena-sama to you, Kodaka-sama. I will stop by your home first thing in the morning."

There was a moment for me to ask about clarifying the thing about the condoms, but Sena was in hearing range and it was probably unwise to return to that topic after Stella and I made an unwritten agreement of moving on. "All right," I said instead. "See you then."

I ended the call and turned to Sena. She was fidgeting under my stare. "Why couldn't you ask me about a sleepover?"

"Because . . . because it's embarrassing, okay!" She crossed her arms—_bouncy meat for my eyes to feast_, STOP IT!—and harrumphed. Then her shoulders sagged as she looked away. "I've never slept over anyone's house before," she added with a blush.

"I see." It was too troublesome to stay mad at her. This was just the way she was, sometimes indecisive, usually proud, rarely cooperative when it was important. She was such a handful that I began to give respect to her father for putting up with her since she was born. I sighed one more time and said, "Come on. Kobato's waiting for us."

I was already moving before I finished what I was saying, and Sena quickly caught up as we walked away from the station and into the night. For me, this was a day filled with tiresome events that I couldn't wait to get home and start cooking; it had always been a great stress-reliever. Sena could use the guestroom for tonight; I'd have to prep it up, clean up the dust, and put on new sheets and a pillow for the bed.

All in all, this sleepover would be easy compared to the roller coaster ride of our afterschool activities.

Oh, how I would eat those words later. When it came to Sena, sometimes life was bound to be unpredictable.


	5. A Night with the Hasegawas

Date written: 03/03/11 – 01/04/12

Posted on FanFiction: 01/04/12

A/N: It's a shame there's no April Fools prank for me to enact; I'd been out in the sun since yesterday. Summer is already starting here in my country. No sunburns to speak of, but the fun at the beach was damn great. Despite that, I still brought my laptop along and finished this chapter before I got back home. Then did some minor revisions before publishing. It might've taken a while, guys, but here's the next chapter.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 5 ––<strong>

**A Night with the Hasegawas **

Our meet-up with Kobato was a sordid affair, at least to my little sister, who took to the idea of Sena spending the night in our home like a neurotic cat forced to play around with an overexcited dog. She thought of it as a nuisance through and through, but she still had to be polite to others as it was instilled in us by our father. It was not all courteous obligation for her opinion remaining silent; she was not cold-hearted enough to let Sena sleep in the streets. Neither was I, and even if Kobato, by the slimmest chance, actually objected to the arrangement then I'd pull the more responsible older brother card and keep Sena with us.

That and I would hate to find out the repercussions for turning down the chairman's daughter during her time of need. More so with Stella. I shuddered at the thought.

"Heeeehhh . . ." Sena stood in front of our home, reading the surname plate embedded on the post next to the gate and then moving her head to survey the very presence of our house. Her voice carried with it the quality of slight amazement. "So this is where you live, Kodaka."

I knew it was nothing compared to the mansion she lived in, but at least I made sure to make it as cozy and homey as I could. Which reminded me of the cleaning I had to do to prep up Sena's sleeping arrangements. Despite including it in my usual weekly housecleaning, it wouldn't hurt to do it while cooking the food.

"I'm sorry if it's not to your liking," I replied, using every bit of my self-restrain to keep the sarcasm out.

She quickly shook her head. "No, no, Kodaka, I didn't mean it like that." She gestured at the two-story house. "It's just . . . well . . ."

"Like a commoner's?"

"It's cozy, I guess."

My jaw slackened, and I might've uttered something close to a "Huh?" Whether or not I did, Sena paid no heed to it. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. It reminds me of Mama's childhood home."

We slipped through the entrance, Kobato rushing inside well before us, and left our shoes at the foyer. I fished out two pairs of slippers and gave one to Sena. "Hey," I said as I put on my pair, "what's your mother like?"

"Beautiful, perfect, and gifted. I am her daughter, after all."

"No, I mean, what's it like living with her?"

I had always been curious of it. When Sena and I had that personal talk in her bedroom, we spoke of many things about each other, but whenever the topic of mothers came about, she would stir clear of it, sometimes changing the topic, sometimes shifting it to our fathers and their supposed friendship we kept hearing about. I didn't push the subject because even I was a little hesitant to talk about my own mother, and whatever reason she had for avoiding any mention of the other half of our parents was probably in the same line of reasoning as mine. But the difference was that her mother was still alive and working abroad—as a professor in Harvard too, if I correctly recalled Pegasus mentioning during his drunken storytelling—on that thought, that was just one of the few things I'd remembered of that night. Weird then. Weird now.

Sena looked like she had been caught in a lie, averting her gaze to the side, clasping her hands across her stomach. A frown was forming and the averted gaze slowly moved downwards. "She . . ." Sena paused, swallowing a lump in her throat and taking a deep breath. "She is a good mother, I guess."

Not the most descriptive thing to say about your mother, you know. A while earlier she had been describing her with great gusto, although part of the praises was also directed at Sena herself, but now that things switched from physical info to maternal info, she was quite hush-hush. Was there a secret she was trying to keep from me? From everyone?

We entered the living room. "Take a seat. Let me just put these in the kitchen."

Sena sat herself down, eyeing the things in the living room, even the moderately large television we had. She wasn't commenting, but there was a tinge of wonder in her gaze not unlike the one she sported while we were at the toy store earlier. "So this is your living room, huh?"

I grunted a response, although I doubted she'd hear from my place in the kitchen. "You can turn on the TV if you want."

"No, I'm all right."

"Are you sure? I'm going to get dinner ready and it'd take a while."

"Oh, then where did Kobato-chan go?"

"Probably back to her room." A pause later: "And no, I am not telling you where it is."

"Why not?"

"Kobato needs her privacy. I'm saving you by not telling you."

She harrumphed, sounding much closer than before. I looked over my shoulder, while midway from placing the strawberries into the bottom drawer of the fridge, and saw Sena leaning her hand on the dining table, the other hand placed on her hip.

"How bittersweet," she said.

I sighed slowly, sweeping the annoyance her comment ignited under the rug, and stood back up. "Go take what you can get. I won't repeat myself."

"Why are you so protective all of a sudden?"

A better question would be why I was acting the part of the protective brother now when I had been lenient with Sena's pedo-lezzy tendencies since she and my little sister met. Yes, I was lenient. Yes, I did nothing to keep Sena from getting all touchy-feely with my sister, drooling like an otaku high on moe. And yes, I was finally taking action to protect my sister as a big brother should. The problem was that everything except the last was the truth. It was more out of protecting Sena than protecting Kobato. My sister honestly needed her privacy. The only times I had come into her room were when I had to wake her up or to clean it. She didn't mind much if it were me entering, but she was still a thirteen-year-old girl with plenty of insecurities. There was one incident back in the old place we lived that made clear what her thoughts were about trespassers who were not me. My friends and I decided to have a study session at my house, and one of them was stupid enough to mistake Kobato's bedroom for the bathroom, despite me saying it was _downstairs_. He sported a black eye afterwards, and from his testimony, he didn't do anything to justify that level of feminine brutality, meaning my sister had been decent but she still opted for an extreme form of punishment for an intruder. That was the worst incident so far. There were also a few minor scuffles, not at all bad, and I ultimately made it a point to warn my friends about entering my sister's room before they come to visit. They never bothered visiting since.

I was just extending the same courtesy to Sena, but I guess saying it straight without a proper explanation would send the wrong message. I was more tolerant than anyone about Sena's weird infatuation with Kobato, one could not mistake that aspect of me, but my tolerance could reach so far. Sena needed to learn restraint, and my sister would rather live without the trauma of having this woman invade her most personal space, drooling and panting as always.

"Because it's for your own good," I answered, already in the midst of my element as I scan the ingredients I didn't put away. I had special plans for dinner because Sena would be joining us. The dinner we had at the Kashiwazaki's was exquisite and after all the events that had occurred, I never got the chance to speak with the chef and ask for some pointers. Oh well.

"Why exactly is it for my own good?" Her speech was more intrigued than annoyed.

"Let's just say Kobato hates it when people invade her privacy."

"But I hug her all the time and she doesn't seem to mind."

"Oh, she does mind. She just has a hard time articulating her protest politely."

"Eh? No way!"

"Yes way." I set up the chopping board, the knives, the pans, and my apron. I should've gone up and changed first, but dinner would've been postponed much later. Besides, there was a guest who was equally hungry, even though she did her best to hide the fact her stomach had growled while on the way here. When she still could not believe me, I said, "Hasn't it occurred to you that she was brushing you off most of the time?"

"She was just being tsundere," Sena retorted with utmost certainty. She stopped leaning on the table and opted for her signature cross-arms position—_Mighty [Meaty] bonanza!_ STOP!

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," I murmured and commenced cutting the carrots. Annoyance was dwindling, exhaustion was dwindling, stress was dwindling. Yes, I was in my element. Without really realizing it, I began to hum a familiar melody.

"You seem quite content to be cooking, for a guy," Sena commented, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting on it. "The guys I know are terrible at that."

"There are plenty of male chefs in the world, you know."

"I know, it's just that . . . you don't look the type to enjoy cooking."

"Because I look like a Yankee?"

She remained silent.

"I've cooked for Maria many times before. Why would I do that if I don't enjoy cooking?" I also did it to provide the ten-year-old some nutrition in her body. It was unhealthy of her to live on chips and snacks at her age of development.

"I thought you took pity on her."

". . . that's a little harsh, don't you think?"

She had the decency to blush. "Yeah, I guess a little."

And I doubted she'd try to apologize; her pride wouldn't take it. Silence had come between us after that, neither of us having a topic to keep the conversation going. I didn't really mind. With my hands busying themselves in the culinary arts, I preferred either the deafening silence and the snippets of small talk, the former because of concentration issues, the latter because of a desire to hear more of Sena's voice. She and I had fun when we let down the social and personal barriers and actually _talked_ without constraint like that night, and a part of me just seemed . . . needy, you could say, for more of that.

Sena, however, couldn't pinpoint her thought processes on a singular topic, switching between ideas as quick as she could think them. I did not exactly know of this, but the way her fidgeting form looked to be on the edge of entering 'a bundle of nerves' state, it was probably safe to say that this was the first-world dilemma she was suffering from.

"So," I started, already feeling agitated at the continued silence between us, broken only by the sounds of my chopping, simmering, boiling, and rummaging in the kitchen, the faint noises of Kobato doing something in her room unheeded, "how did your father survive the hangover?"

Not a really bad topic to discuss. At least it was better than nothing.

* * *

><p>I booted up the Xbox 360 and inserted the game disc into the tray. Sena watched me do this with barely contained anticipation. Despite claiming to have attained 100% completion of this game, she still remained giddy over its story and characters. I sometimes felt that way after reading a series of light novels, having equal parts of happiness to see the story's satisfying conclusion and of sadness after realizing that this would be the last time I'd ever read about the cast. I was certain she had this kind of feeling with the girls she captured during her journey through dozens, if not scores, of galge ever since she was introduced to that world.<p>

I didn't even have a hard time picturing a "perfect" girl like Sena to be into something questionable, especially in regards to her sexuality. Forget the pedo part; she could very well be a lesbian and didn't even know or realize it. It would explain a lot of things, anyway.

I sat myself next to her, pressing the Start button in the same instant I heard the couch quietly groan from supporting my weight. After dinner, Sena suggested that I brushed up on my expertise with bishoujo games, specifically the one she lent me before the start of summer, the same one I hadn't progressed more than one percent since getting it. I hadn't even reached my first decision yet, and I made a lame attempt of covering up my tracks. But Sena was nothing if not determined, so having to boot up our game console for this game ended up being my next course of action. Anything less and I'd be rousing suspicion, although such worries meant crap if Sena found wind of my inactivity of said game regardless. It was better that I faced the music, I guess.

Kobato had sit this one out as well, especially after Sena tried to persuade my sister into playing the game with all three of us—I was quite surprised she actually included me, to tell the truth—so I immediately decided on the bathing arrangements. Kobato first, Sena second, me last. Sena had no qualms with this, despite Japanese courtesy dictating that guests should be given the bath first before the household members.

"To soak in the same tub Kobato-chan just used is the second best thing, just below actually bathing with her!" was her loud and unashamed declaration. If this was her reason for turning down first dibs . . .

By the way, she offered once again to bathe with Kobato, but as expected, my sister would have none of that. One traumatizing event was all she could handle from the buxom blonde.

So it was just the two of us in the living room now, with dinner done, the dishes and utensils washed, and Kobato safe, currently retreating to the hot confines of a nice evening bath with the bathroom door locked; I had heard the click when she ran past and closed the door behind me after I announced the bath was ready. She wasn't about to take any chances.

The game's main menu loaded up, followed by a soothing piano solo that sparked a slight recall on my mind, as if this symphony were familiar to me. Could it be Beethoven, Mozart, or even Bach? I couldn't really tell, but my bet was on Beethoven. I went to the Load menu and selected my latest save, quickening my attempt so that Sena wouldn't have a chance of seeing the date.

"Hey, wait a minute! You haven't played since two weeks ago!"

Damn. Such sharp eyes.

"I was busy," I replied nonchalantly, shrugging as I did so. It wouldn't be much of a stretch. With all the activities (read _the usual club stuff we do each day_) we'd been getting into since the start of summer, I completely forgot about the game Sena lent me.

She showed me a soured look. "Then I guess it's a good thing we can start from the beginning," she said, leaning back on the couch as the voiced line of the protagonist sounded off from the TV speakers. "You probably would've chosen the best friend route here."

I almost said "Yes, I would have," but I clamped my mouth just in time. The main point of this game was to capture and date one of the five girls, and my clubmate made it her goal to accomplish such an objective. To hear me speak lowly, albeit in an implied way, of her accomplishments would not sit well for her pride.

One of the capture candidates appeared on screen.

"Oooh," Sena said, "that's Haruka, the mature auntie of Emi-chan."

"They even let you capture old ladies?"

"She's not _that_ old, idiot. She's only thirty-five."

"And the protagonist is a high school freshman." Meaning, the capture candidate is over twice his damn age.

"Age means nothing when it comes to love."

"I thought you bought this game to practice making friends, not love." I reprocessed what I just said. I wished I had worded it better.

Either out of embarrassment or my unexpected innuendo, Sena blushed. "It-It-It's not as if I was doing it because I wanted to." She turned away from me with a huff. "I-I only d-did it to unlock the bonus character route. I can't unlock her without a 100% completion."

"I see." I clicked the A button again and again, reading the text with the same speed as when I read from a book. The voice actors were kind of distracting, but I preferred to read the dialogue than listen to it, so I tried my best to ignore them.

And before I knew it, I ended up landing on the very first choice of the game. The family dinner had just ended and Haruka was alone in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while the rest of the household did their own business. Two choices were given:

**Help her**

**Watch her**

They were pretty straightforward, not at all hinting as to what other course of action the protagonist would make after picking a particular choice. So I tried to look deeper into what these choices were trying to convey. From what I knew about Haruka after reading the manual and the impression I had of her during the first meeting, she had been independent ever since she dropped out of college. She had on a wedding ring, but no husband in sight. Not even an altar in any of the rooms, although the developers had probably held that off until later on in her story. It happened in a novel I'd read during middle school.

The preferred choice would've been to help her, and I had almost done that, but I also had to think of how that would impact to her general impression of me. Yes, she'd think of me as a helpful and kind guy, but she was already thirty-five and giving off a very mature air around her. This woman lived twice as long as I and my character, and there was no doubt she encountered plenty of people with kind gestures that somehow feel hollow. She would think that me helping her would've been out of obligation rather than actual kindness; the protagonist was boarding in her home for free, after all. This made it seem as if the protagonist was trying too hard to impress her, and while she might think of it as an action born out of youthful innocence, I thought of it as an action born out of desperation.

So I chose to watch her.

"Wow, you picked the right choice," Sena commented. "Haruka prefers men who act mature because she's mature herself. If she needed help, she would've asked for it. Then again, maybe you only did that so you could have a chance of capturing the other girls."

"I picked that choice because I believed it was right," I retorted, nonplussed. It was to be expected from her, anyway. She probably did not mean to sound holier-than-thou; this was her element, after all, her familiarity of the genre made her a professional whereas I was but a mere nave. A perceptive nave, anyway.

More text reading and clicking later, I was presented with the second choice of the game. This one was with the protagonist's cousin, the tomboy Cecilia. She was half-American, born and raised in rural Maine like a certain horror writer, to whom she was a big fan of. Ever since she and my player were kids, he had always thought of her as 'one of the guys' because she preferred shorts to skirts and getting dirty to tea parties (this was a description from the actual game). She goes to an all-girl high school located just downhill from the protagonist's school, so they often went home together. She was physically active, taking a liking to basketball, but she turned down the club because of personal reasons.

We were on our way home now, climbing down the hill, our shadows stretching before us. Cecilia didn't want to go home yet and neither did my character, but they were indecisive of where exactly they could go. This was where the story forked, giving me three options to work with. One was to head to the courts, see if they could join in on a basketball game. Another was to head over to the movie theaters and check out that new horror movie already out. And the last was to head over to the shopping district, browse around some shops and see if anything there caught their eye.

"I think I already know what you'd decide," Sena said.

"The shopping district."

"Yeah, the sho—EH?" Her head whirled towards me, eyes going wide and jaw dropping to its limit.

"What's with the overreaction?" I asked. Call me curious, because I really wanted to know what the fuss was about. I mean, it seemed quite logical to pick the shopping district, right?

"How come you ended up choosing _that_?" Her tone was high pitched, disbelief evident for my own ears to depict. "It's not just at random, is it?"

I guess my choice would require an explanation of sorts, but the problem was I could not condense the story to a shortened enough version for Sena to understand. I told her as much, but she was adamant that I explain my choice.

"If it's with galge, I need all there is to know," she added, feeling quite proud while saying it too.

I should've known that would be case. This was galge and Sena loved galge. This was no doubt the right choice, and she must've chosen the wrong one the first time. She wanted an explanation, whether I liked it or not.

I cleared my throat. This was going to take a while. "Well, you know how we were given a brief background on Cecilia, that she liked horror and playing with the guys when she was younger."

"Yeah, that's true." She was nodding along like a pupil heeding the advice of her master. It felt wonderful, for some reason.

"And she's into the sport basketball, correct?"

"Correct."

"But if she likes basketball so much, why didn't she join the basketball club? And her only reason for not joining was due to personal reasons. It's quite vague, but I instantly understood that anything basketball would be a bad decision."

"How come?"

"I can just tell. I can't really explain any more than that."

"Okay. But what about the horror movie? Couldn't that have been the best choice?"

"She might like horror in general, and I would've no doubt chosen that . . . if it weren't for what she said before."

"Which is . . .?"

"She said she's jealous of Hikari getting that bracelet fad before she did. And what better way to get it than in the shopping district? Between horror and being a girl, I think I'd prefer her to be more connected to that hidden feminine side of hers."

"Does she even have one?" Ouch. Yet another unintentionally condescending question from Sena Kashiwazaki.

"Of course she does. Every girl has a feminine side," I said, pressing the down button twice to highlight my preferred choice. "Cecilia here just has a hard time expressing it outwardly."

"Spoken out of instincts?"

"No, out of experience. I was acquainted with a tomboy during middle school."

"Acquainted? Not friends?"

I shook my head. "No, we weren't that close at all. I know some things about her, but my presence makes her nervous for some reason. Whenever I talk to her, she'd go all red-faced as if she was annoyed at me for disturbing her. I can clearly tell she was holding her annoyance in because she stuttered like crazy. She never had that kind of problem with other people."

She was awed at me. "For a really dense guy, you can be very perceptive sometimes. And I don't know if I should be glad that you're not as dense as I believed or be sad that you're only perceptive with 2D girls."

"I honestly have no idea what you're going on about. And who are you calling dense?"

She looked away, harrumphing. "If you can't even understand what I mean, then you carry that description well."

I wanted to have some harsh words with her, but I ended up letting it go. I was beginning to see the appeal of Yozora teasing Sena so much. "Whatever," I replied and pressed the A button. The next roll of text engaged me into the game world once more.

We spent our time going through two more choices before Kobato came to the room, telling Sena that it was her turn to use the bath. Before my clubmate could again suggest that the two of them soak in the tub together, Kobato hastily returned to her room without looking back.

"Kobato-chaaaaaaaan . . ." A pout made its way to her lips and it was aimed to life's misfortunes on a goddess like her.

"Kobato will never bathe with you again," I stated. My attention was still glued to the screen as the text continued to provide me with the development of the story. Cecilia's mini-drama was unexpected, but from what Sena often remarked—with no tact for telling spoilers—I wasn't close in capturing her. That was all right because she was not the girl I was aiming for.

"You can't prove that!" Sena exclaimed, no doubt offended at my words.

"It's not a matter of proving." I glimpsed at her through the corner of my eyes. "Kobato was traumatized when you two bathed."

She gasped. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not. She made me promise that I'll stop her if ever the same situation happened again."

Feeling like all her hopes were shattered to irreparable shards, she wavered on her legs and slumped onto the couch, the groan it emitted much louder than when I sat down on it. She went silent as the game's story forked into another choose-your-adventure selection.

The character sprite my player had been talking to was the main girl, which, in laymen's terms, meant that this was the most popular girl out of the others in the game. Even Sena considered her to be her favorite character. A black-haired beauty, never seen with a smile but always with a scowl, and with an attitude that basically screamed 'I hate your guts.' Aoba Chinatsu. Now this was a girl I had trouble dealing with, not because she was emanating a malevolent aura whenever my player came close to her but because she wasn't very truthful of her feelings. This was my opinion, since one half of the cast told me she liked me while the other half believed she hated my guts with a passion.

I just chose a side and went from there.

"Seriously . . ." I sighed, and thought over which of the two choices was the better one. "How is she considered the most popular girl?"

"It's because she's a tsundere," Sena retorted, her voice crisp and to-the-point, as if she were saying water can be drunk.

"She scowls all the time."

"It's her default face."

"She's blunt and scowls even nastier at me."

"She can't express herself well. She also has trouble speaking in a roundabout way."

"She told me in that last scene not to come near her."

"It was very hard for her to keep up the scowl, so she wanted you away to compose herself."

"All I did was compliment her hair."

"And that was the trigger. And the flag."

"Flag?"

"You got her to like you a bit more."

"It shouldn't be that easy, should it?"

"You'd be surprised," she answered mysteriously, and somehow I could tell she was smiling lopsidedly.

"Hmmm . . ." I clicked through the text three more times before asking Sena, "Aren't you going to take a bath?"

"You're almost done," she replied. "I want to see the end of it."

"How do you know I'm near the end? I haven't even captured a girl yet."

"You'll see."

And sure enough, twenty lines later, I reached the end of my playthrough with no girlfriend in sight and a small message of my player trying harder to find a girl. To say nothing of the encouragement he got from his best male friend in the game. This was the kind of ending I still believed to be the best, but that was my own opinion, and many of the other players of this game did not see eye-to-eye with me on that regard.

Especially Sena.

"Where did I go wrong?" That was the most puzzling thing. I doubted I had done a wrong turn from any of the choices throughout my playing, yet the screen crying out _GAME OVER_ was stating otherwise. Again, where did I go wrong?

"From the start, I'd say," Sena said, reclining into the couch as she crossed her arms. Don't expect me to say something _meaty_; I finally regained complete control.

"From the start?"

She nodded. "The point of the game is to pick a girl and fill up her love points so you can capture her. What you've been doing since the start was pleasing every single girl in the game."

"Won't that fill their love points, regardless?"

"Normally, yes. But in galge, this would serve your own undoing. The girls would see you acting nice with the other girls and realize that you were being nice and considerate not because you're interested in them but because that's just the way you were. Some of those girls _might_ already be in love with you, but if she were to compare herself with the apparent competition, then she would've backed down without bothering to fight."

"So because of my attitude in the game, I . . . what? Got friendzoned?"

"More like _you_ friendzoned those poor girls." She sighed. And then murmured something I couldn't quite catch: "Like what you're doing with us in the club."

"Huh? What?"

She shook her head. "Never mind. In any case, you need to understand that you have to concentrate on one girl only."

"I'd feel a little bad for the other girls if I ignored them just because I'm trying to make another girl fall in love with me." This was one of the reasons why the prospect of dating games did not appeal to me, especially when it acts less of an RPG-type and more of a choose-your-own-adventure style gameplay. The latter would have you interact with each of the girls and whatever actions you take would impact on her impression of you, unlike the former, which required the player to gain the required amount of certain attributes (intelligence, atheletics, studies, and the like) to unlock the intended girl as well as boost her love points. It was just a game, I would admit that much, but I did not want to become a complete asshole to the non-intended girls just because of faulty game mechanics that required such an action to reach the good ending of the intended. In a nutshell, I wanted everyone to be happy and like me. To be cruel to others, all for the sake of one girl . . . it didn't sit well for me.

"I felt the same way when I played, but sacrifices had to be made to capture the girl."

"I don't like it."

"Me neither. But, Kodaka, you have to understand: you need to make a choice. With the way things are, you're giving the girls mixed signals. Do you like this girl or that girl? Are you interested in either or neither? Girls can be just as clueless to the feelings of boys as the boys are to us girls." Her eyes glazed for a moment, eyebrows contorting to a scowl. I gazed down at her hands which were clenched into tight fists. "It's . . . frustrating, I guess. Very frustrating. Here they are, having these strange but exhilarating feelings, yet the one who caused such feelings to amplify and ignite and burst all at the same time is setting his attention on many other girls. Worse, he's being as kind and considerate to them as he is to her. How does she feel, Kodaka? What is she supposed to do now?"

"I . . . I . . ." The sentence was never finished; I didn't have an answer. Truthfully, I didn't see it that way at all.

Sena rose from the couch. "I'm going to the bath."

"Y-Yeah."

Something changed in the air, something more tensed and emotionally distorting. I couldn't see Sena's eyes and she didn't give me the chance. A more proper reply did not surface from my lips when she eventually exited the room and I was left alone with the blinking _GAME OVER_ screen for company, its eight ominous letters seeming to perfectly describe the status of our little bonding moment.

Maybe it was time to turn off the console and head back to my room. Wait for my turn in the bath. There was no point to continue playing after what had happened. But a part of me refused to let things drop in their current state, urging me to move forward, and more of myself began to be motivated. I returned to the main menu and reloaded my most recent saved game.

Sena said that to capture a girl, I would have to disregard the other girls. Well, maybe it was time to hold back on the kindness and consideration and play this game with the intent to woo the girl. Who knows, it might give me pointers in getting a girlfriend.

* * *

><p><em>Sena let out a satisfying sigh as she lay in the tub, basking in the warm water with the eagerness of a woman who hadn't bathed in weeks. Her thoughts were plagued with the words she had said to Kodaka, always returning to them, always making her groan in annoyance. She tried not to think of that scene at all, but the more she tried, the harder it was for her to clear her head. It seemed that her words would not dissolve from the forefront of her mind without proper course and closure.<em>

_She had said those words out of a whim, not really listening at her own voice but listening to the pained whispers inside her, inside her heart, who knew more about her than she knew herself. They knew of her insecurities, her hidden desires and distastes, her fears, and her actual feelings. They were a part of Sena that knew everything about her, yet for all the knowledge they had, their words and commands were often no stronger than faint whispers having to cross through a very thick fog._

_They barely had time to transmit their message, much less upping the intensity for her to actually hear. Yet the message was received and deciphered, internally and externally. She might try to excuse with herself that these words meant little to what she felt for real or even divert it to being empathic to the love troubles of the girls who suffered with an unrequited love, but she knew in her heart of hearts that these excuses were badly fabricated lies._

"_Idiot . . ." She closed her eyes and dunked her head under water. Heat flooded her face. Resurfacing and then trying to blow away a few wet strands of hair that stuck to her nose, she said again to the steamy bathroom, "Idiot." Whether this was directed to herself, who felt like a fool being led around by an unfeeling jerk, or to the man outside, who was oblivious to and seemingly unconcerned at the feelings he was making her feel. "Idiot."_

_One side of her believed these feelings to be _that_, yet another believed that she was exaggerating things. There was a difference between friendship and love, and she unfortunately did not have experience with either. For all she knew, this was a passing fancy, a direct result of her inexperience with deeply interacting with boys of her age. Sure there were her servants and doormats at school, but she seldom remembered their names or faces. Kodaka was the first guy she actually paid attention to, from his baritone voice to his expressive ash gray eyes. He was quite down-to-earth and not afraid to speak his mind when he knew something was wrong. The other boys weren't like that. They never scolded her; they liked _her_ scolding_ them_, instead. They never spoke their minds; they were content to serve her every whim. While it was enjoyable and fitting for a goddess like her, it didn't give her the chance to talk to any of them like how she and Kodaka talked in her room until the dark hours of the morning._

_She never felt so open at that time, more so because she was trusting Kodaka with the things she said then. Did she trust Kodaka because she thought of him as a friend . . . or a potential love interest?_

"_Does he even feel the same?"_

_And that was maybe the source of her melancholy. They might've developed their relationship bit-by-precious-bit, but it would not progress further if he thought of her in a platonic rather than romantic sense. She felt a pang in her heart at the thought, but paid no mind to its probable implication. The question now was, did she have what it takes to risk it? Open her heart completely to him and hope that he'd feel the same?_

"_No." She rose from the tub and made her way to the door. Her hand hovered next to the handle, hesitating as if believing that the other side would show all that she feared at this moment. "I don't."_

_She grabbed the handle and slid open the door._

_Her feelings had left her confused and afraid. To pursue them further would bring more trouble, the kind of trouble she was just not ready for. And so with a heavy heart brimmed with fear and uncertainty, she made her decision._

_She was not going to pursue Kodaka Hasegawa romantically._


	6. The Enigmatic Steward

Date written: 14/04/12 – 14/05/12

Posted on FanFiction: 14/05/12

Revised and Updated on FanFiction: 16/06/12

A/N: A bit shorter than usual, but this is the product of my overdone procrastination. I'll be pretty busy for the next two seasons (reviewing in the capital for the board exam and stuff), so it was better I spit these plot bunnies out before they multiply further.

I hadn't yet revised this, so I'll probably come back to make some post-editing and the like. I've always been like this, updating stories before revising them, content with editing post-update. Anyway, I got some apartment hunting to do later in the day, so I need some sleep. Enjoy the story, people. Oh, and watch out for the cliffhanger in the end. It's a freakin' doozy. Hahaha.

[Update]

Fully revised now. And added one other scene in the end. About a few days after posting this chapter for the first time, I was already thinking up a scene that would not only elaborate on the actions of two particular characters, but put this chapter in more closure than the witless cliffhanger in the end. I wanted to set more clear events of what was to come, and if I'm ever going to make sense in future chapters of how I'm going about with the dynamic relationship between Kodaka and Sena, then it was better to go about in this way than pile up the secrets till they were as high as a mountain when it's time for the great reveal.

So I hope you enjoy this expanded chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 6 ––<strong>

**The Enigmatic Steward**

The incessant ringing of my alarm clock brought me out of the realm of dreams. I barely slept last night (not really caused by my late gaming for Emi's fulfilling ending that left me in utter tears, mind you), but I could not afford to let time pass me by as I lay idle. Normally, I would've woken up at about seven and commenced the usual morning routine I had done a hundred times since moving in here with Kobato, but the time on my clock depicted that it was one hour earlier than my designated wakeup time. This was deliberate because, unlike before when it was just the two of us, Sena had come and slept here for the night. Not only that, the Neighbors Club was scheduled to meet up at the train station at ten in the morning for our training camp. I had to make breakfast, some last minute preparations and packing, in case I or Kobato forgot anything, and also figure out how exactly Sena would get her luggage together before the meet up. Last night she brushed off my concerns, saying that she got it covered, but did she really? I just couldn't help doubting her a bit.

I got off my bed and changed into something more suitable, if only for a few hours before we set out for the train station. It was too early to start breakfast, so I decided to make that last minute check of our luggage. I already placed them next to the foyer to lessen any hassle: just pick them up, step outside, and lock the door behind you. Easy peasy.

"That leaves one last thing," I muttered, stepping into the second floor hallway, the cold wooden floor stabbing my bare feet. This was an old home, going on its third decade from what I had heard from Dad, so I made sure to take my steps lightly lest I sound off unnecessary creaks that could wake either of the blonde girls. I had no idea if Sena was a light sleeper, but I exercised caution all the same.

Arriving at the top of the stairway, descending towards the bottom floor, and then heading to the living room, I unplugged the extension cord, which gave power to the TV, Xbox 360, Blu-Ray player, and electrical fan, from the outlet. I offered a moment's pause to contemplate whether or not to leave the electric fan unplugged and decided that it should serve its primary function while the three of us were still here. I didn't use the extension cord; the fan was connected directly to the outlet, and I savored the artificial wind after pressing the '2' button.

The curtains were yanked to let in the summer morning, but due to the house's direction and architecture, this particular window was for sunsets not sunrises. Direct sunlight could not come in, but their ambience was a good enough substitute to illuminate the rather dim room. I slid open the glass door that connected the living room to the small backyard we had and inhaled a breath of fresh air.

"Good morning, world, huh?" I snorted quietly. Words from an old friend; it sounded fitting to say it right now. "Well, better get to those bags. They don't pack themselves." I stretched my arms a bit before reclosing the door and heading to the luggage I had laid at the foyer.

I did the customary checks of our things: toothbrushes, toothpaste, bathing soap, swimwear, sleepwear, extra clothing (the summer wear kind; I didn't want Kobato to abuse her body with her gothic getups that brought more heat than cosplaying pleasure), sandals, and a few beach paraphernalia I managed to scrounge through the stock room outside. The latter was checked for damages and the like before being packed, of course. It wouldn't do for Kobato or Maria to play around with a swim ring and have it deflate after a while. When I inspected every pocket in my bag, I realized what was missing.

With moves I could benefit to a few of my ancestors being ninja (I wish), I tiptoed back into my room. I opened my schoolbag and fished out the Blu-Ray I had bought just yesterday when Sena had gone to the used bookstore to purchase some doujinshi she took interest in. A story about two lovers that looked like me and her, to be exact. I wanted everyone to watch this movie at the training camp because I just knew that it carried a good message of not only sheer loyalty, but the importance of friendship that must never be forgotten.

I felt a little sad thinking about it. I, more than some, understood how important it was to never forget your friends, yet I ended up forgetting my one and only true friend. His name, his face, even his voice. All that remained was a faint memory of the times we'd spent together, living within my heart like a candle close to extinction.

It was perfect for the club's goal, yet knowing the moral story before I even had the chance to watch the movie sucked a bit of the point. I mean, this is a well-known true story account in Japan, after all. But despite knowing how this movie would end, the middleground was a completely blank slate, eager to be filled with what it has in store. What really mattered was the experience, and I honestly hoped that this movie would provide more insight on the dynamics of how friendship worked and how it could be easily forged. This might seem to be on the border of exaggeration, especially when the lessons one could learn from this two-hour film could be so profound and life-altering, and maybe it was, but frankly I didn't care much about that. False hope or not, I wanted to learn something useful from this film.

Before leaving the room, I espied my cell phone, nestled deeply in my bed sheets when I fell asleep browsing through the internet with it. The Wi-Fi was still on, which meant that the phone was already low on juice. I had to recharge it now before we left. Putting it inside the pocket of my shorts while carrying the charger in my left hand, the right carrying the plastic containing the Blu-Ray, I took one last glance at my room, idly commenting to myself to make the bed after breakfast, and closed the door without a sound.

On my way downstairs, I brought shame to my fictional ninja ancestors when I stepped on a creaky floorboard. I had been doing too well with this stealth thing that I should've suspected something would go wrong soon. The sound it echoed was like snapping a twig in front of a sleeping ferocious lioness. I could practically see the flaps of her ears facing the source of the sound and hear the low growl emitting from its throat. I stood there, motionless for ten agonizing seconds before I deemed it safe to proceed. The two girls had not woken, but I wouldn't push my luck that far again.

The experience itself got my blood pumping and remove the last vestiges of my mind's early morning disorientation. It was both a good thing and a bad thing; I didn't bother weighing the pros and cons of it. I made a brief visit to the bathroom to wash my face and settle out my bedhead. My cellphone was then neatly plugged into the living room outlet, neighboring with the electric fan till its batteries were full. Saying a whispery cry of "Yosh!" I headed to the kitchen, fishing out some bread to toast and eggs to fry.

Today I was supposed to cook a Japanese cuisine breakfast, which I had planned for since last night, but now I wasn't in the mood for it. I needed something Western and filling for the stomach. A brief check in the refrigerator generated a mental list of dishes I could whip up without resorting to the rice cooker. Western had to remain solely Western, after all. The list itself was numerous—most likely because of the grocery shopping last night, stocking up everything we would need from fruits and vegetables to meat and fish—but I needed no more than fifteen seconds to decide on the right kind of breakfast. Aside from toast and eggs, a few mouth-watering delicacies wouldn't hurt. Not to mention seeing Sena's satisfied smile again once her taste buds got a load of my other creations. To be sure, I checked the clock embedded on top of the open arch separating the kitchen and the living room, and formed a satisfied smile.

Plenty of time to work in a leisurely pace. It was as if the worries of today had been stuffed into a box and wouldn't be opened until it was time.

Time for my cellphone to start ringing to be precise.

I stopped before my wrist twisted enough to activate the ignition for the stove, looking over my shoulder at the vibrating little object on the floor, singing out a shounen anime theme song I had listened to back when I was in middle school. My hands worked in an almost automatic fashion, shutting off the propane tank and pulling my phone's flipside to accept the call, all while my mind was processing two distinct thoughts at once—I hoped Kobato and Sena didn't wake up from this, and I wondered about the person calling me at this time in the morning. My first guess would be Yozora because she'd probably call if the training trip got cancelled for some reason. It seemed the most logical, since apart from the rest of the Neighbors Club, I received more calls and texts from her than any of the other members combined.

"Hello?" I said, already expecting the usual call of my name whenever Yozora was on the other line.

To my surprise, however, it wasn't Yozora calling this time.

"Kodaka-sama." That crisp, stoic female voice, sounding from the receiver like a toneless symphony of phonetics.

"Stella-san?" Yes, it was Stella, the Kashiwazaki's steward—in other words, their female butler.

"I hope I have not caught you in a bad time, Kodaka-sama."

"Oh, no, no, not at all," I insisted, stealing a glance at the kitchen where my precious utensils were spread out and the half-finished preparations of a breakfast I intend to impassion with my godlike culinary skills, and immediately let out a nervous chuckle. Hahaha . . . . . . . . . I wanted my fix. Right now. "I was just about to make breakfast."

"For three?" Something told me there was eagerness in her tone, despite it being as monotonous as usual.

"Yes," I answered, and reentered the kitchen.

Silence on the other line, but I knew Stella still had her phone planted next to her cheek because there was a faint whisper of breathing emitting from the speakers. I had to close my eyes and concentrate to tell apart the breathing from the white noise.

"Stella-san?" I called, the silence already making me feel a lot more nervous.

"Is . . ." she began but left hanging. A pause from both sides, stretching for ten seconds when she decided to try again: "Would it be too much to ask for another serving?"

"Another serving . . . of breakfast?"

"Yes, Kodaka-sama."

". . . you're coming over?"

"With Sena-sama's luggage."

It all clicked now. Sena wasn't really bothered because Stella was there to prepare her luggage for her. And she was sending it to her, to my house, right now.

"It's no problem for me, I guess," I replied, and told her what I was about to cook.

"That particular dish would require some experience in the kitchen to make."

"Experience in the kitchen is something I do not lack, Stella-san," I answered proudly. How could I not? I take pride in what my hands create inside this humble, little kitchen. "Trust me when I say your mind will be blown."

I'd be lying if I said I told her that for mere theatrics rather than subtle, if not subconscious, motivation to do my best instead of _trying_ to do my best. It was just breakfast, but for me—and for my self-proclaimed position as a future Iron Chef champion—the difference between normality and hardcore fixation over a common and mundane task was as wide as the Challenger Deep was deep. If I hadn't decided on what course I'd take for college when my senior year rolled around, I'd probably fall back on my cooking skills and take up Culinary Arts.

"If you say so, Kodaka-sama."

"When will you come here?"

"We're already close. It would not take more than twenty minutes. Forty if the driver makes a few wrong turns."

I heard a yell of indignation from someone on the other line—no doubt it was the driver—but the white noise was so disturbing that I wasn't able to pick up the words he had spoken. "I hope you're not driving here in a limo."

"That would be too conspicuous. I prefer anonymity. The car and the driver are rentals."

Another yell of indignation, this one more tamed and calm than the first. "He seems quite energetic for a driver."

"He's a friend who owes me a favor."

"I see." Even the stoic steward had friends, huh? That thought was a little depressing. Then I realized something while fishing out a couple more eggs from the fridge. "Wait, shouldn't I also include him for breakfast?"

I meant it as a thought, but my mouth articulated it audibly for Stella to hear and remark on.

"No need. He already ate breakfast."

Yet another yell of indignation. Much louder. Much, _much_ louder.

"Do I even need to know?" I asked.

"Don't worry yourself over it, Kodaka-sama. Like I said, he already ate breakfast."

"If you say so. Oh! We have an open garage at the side of the house, by the way. You can park your car there."

"My humble thanks, Kodaka-sama," she said. "That would be all. I shall see you in a little while."

"Yeah. Bye."

The red button on my phone was pressed and I slipped the device into my back pocket. My eyes traced the assorted ingredients I had laid on the counter, and I smiled. There would be no more disturbances. I was about to cook something godly and no one was going to stop me!

* * *

><p>I was in the middle of placing the plates and utensils on the dining table when Kobato came to my view, her black barely-see-through negligee draping her adolescent frame as she stretched one hand up while the other moved to cover her yawn. She had a small case of bedhead, single strands of blonde hair jutting here and there like surviving grass blades after a lawnmower attack. Her bunny plushie was in her hand and thankfully its legs weren't being dragged on the floor like it had been a few years ago. It was a nice reminder that, yes, Kobato was growing, if a little slower than normal.<p>

"Good morning, Kobato."

"Good"—she yawned again—"mornin'. What are we havin' fer breakfast?" Sometimes, Kobato would involuntarily revert to the Kyushu dialect, in times when she was still half-asleep, in times when she felt extremely agitated or annoyed. It made me smile. You could say she had grown up talking in that dialect since we moved out of this town. It was basically hotwired into her language skills and it took a bit of time for her to use standard Japanese when we returned here after ten years.

I answered her question in Kyushu as well, if only to poke a bit of fun out of her. Unmindful of the teasing (or maybe didn't care at all), her mouth watered at my list of culinary delights, and she wasted no more time to get some fresh orange juice from the fridge so that her breakfast meal would be complete.

"Where's Sena?" I asked after placing the final plate on the table.

Kobato shrugged and sat herself down, offering a quiet "Itadakimasu" before digging in.

"Shouldn't you have woken her up?"

She stopped before her fork could stab into her meal, looked at me with deep blue eyes she had gotten from our mother, and plainly said, "Don't wanna."

I sighed. Her dislike ran deep. "Come on now. She's still a guest here, you know."

She pouted, although it could also be an expression of stuffing her mouth with breakfast, and turned away.

"All right," I said, untying my apron and hanging it on the wall hook. "I'll wake her up, then."

I climbed the stairs, no longer worrying over creaky floorboards or the indignant cries of my ninja ancestors as they spoke of my disgracing the family with my wanton disregard of stealth protocols, and approached the guest room. I knocked twice, calling her name softly, yet there was no answer from within. I did it again. And again.

On the fourth time, I made drastic measures. "Sena, if you don't answer me now I'm coming in." I wouldn't do such a thing normally, but we were pressed with time. Stella would be here in a few minutes, tops, and we'd have to get ready to meet up with the Neighbors Club in a few hours. The sooner we get things done here, the lesser we had to worry about running late and panicking over it.

She still didn't answer.

"Okay, don't say I didn't—"

That was as far as I said because by the time the first word left my mouth, I had already twisted the knob and pushed the door open, momentarily blinding myself from the searing sunshine penetrating the half-open window. And the sight before me swept away my ability to produce coherent thought.

There was Sena, lying in the guestroom bed, completely defenseless, wearing my old pajamas but because the garter for the bottom had grown old and loose, she went to sleep clad in only the top and her panties. My wondering eyes (_traitors!_) locked onto something on the bedside table. There was her school uniform, yes, but what really got my attention was the small white fabric peeking out of the blouse and skirt like ham in a sandwich. It was white, outlined with green, and aside from strings as thick as my pinky, the 'cup' looked to have a picture design on its side. It was indiscernible from where this fabric—this _bra_, I almost failed to mention to myself even after realization had set a minute ago—was sandwiched, but I reeled in my curiosity before I started acting like a pervert and examining her bra out of the blue.

But whether or not I let that curiosity go was irrelevant. Other than the bra, there was still the sight of sleeping beauty and numerous angles for my eyes to feast on arousing panty shots. And she was wearing a matching pair to boot!

She moaned in her sleep, scaring the shit out of me and bringing my hormonal self from blushing bliss to paling purgatory as I hoped beyond hope that she didn't wake up just yet. Her body swerved to the left, giving my eyes more candid panty shots and a good view of her _meaty_ bum. A headache began to form, and if it hadn't been caused by my head's swift blushing and paling and blushing again, it might've been because of information overload.

"Go . . . and eat it," she murmured, lightly snoring as one of her legs rose till her knee was leveled with her stomach. I briefly noted the blankets I had supplied her with lying on the floor like a slob's discarded clothing. She must've removed it unconsciously during the night, explaining why I was feasting on an arousing sight this early in the morning. Feast and eat? Go and eat it?

. . . DAMN YOU, BRAIN!

I pulled the door until it looked slightly ajar. Coughing to get rid of the hitch in my throat, I yelled into the room, "Sena! Wake up."

There was the familiar squeak of the old bedframe as Sena jumped at the sound of my voice. "Wah! Kyaa!" I heard a thud. "Ow, ow, ow, ow."

"You okay?"

"Ah! Don't come in here, pervert!"

"I'm not and I won't," I lied, as my brain deemed it the right time to replay the hundred images it had burned into my head. White panties. White bra. Green outlines. Matching. I really wanted to palm my face right now.

"What do you want?" I heard a rustle of fabric. She must've grabbed the blanket and covered herself, despite my assurance that I would not look inside the room—again, I secretly told myself.

"Breakfast is ready." The hand not holding onto the doorknob went to my left chest and felt how my heart beat like crazy, as if I had run over two miles without stopping. "And Stella-san will be coming here shortly."

"Oh, okay. Let me get dressed first."

"I'll see you downstairs, then."

I kept my cool when I closed the door. I kept my cool when I traversed the long trek from the second floor corridor to the top of the stairs. And I also kept my cool when I descended to the ground floor.

From the moment I believed I was safe from any prying eyes—Sena busy changing and Kobato busy eating—I slumped on the bottom step, let out a big long sigh, and nestled my face in both my hands. In a way, my urge to facepalm was satisfied.

This . . . this was not what I had planned for the morning to happen. I was not stupid enough to believe that Plan A would be foolproof and unbreakable, but there was a firm feeling in my heart that as long as I kept ideas for the morning a little vague, then I wouldn't be faced with disappointment or annoyance. I forgot to factor in unexpected occurrences, however, and what just happened upstairs was not only unexpected but uncomfortable as well. This was the second time I had seen Sena in an embarrassing position, except I made sure she wasn't aware of it. It made me feel like a Peeping Tom, but my rational mind countered it with deeming it an accident, and it certainly was but it was of my own volition to open that door, unheeding common decency, and summon forth the subsequent guilt I currently felt once my eyes recorded the erotic show.

"Beautiful," I muttered, thinking back on how . . . natural Sena had looked. Her sleeping face—calm, unfettered, and at peace—bringing into mind the heavenly features of a goddess, accentuated by the light of the sun coming from the half-open window. The picture was astoundingly—

"Beautiful," I muttered again, and released one final sigh. I took a few deep breaths, trying to force my piston-raging heart to ease down on the beating, but it barely helped. My mind kept returning to that angelic image, how those ivory curves of _meat_ put butterflies in my stomach. Dear Lord, I knew I was a healthy teenaged male with a normal interest in the opposite sex and what you could do naked and on a bed with them, but I had never encountered a state wherein all I could think of was to copulate till I fall flat on my face from exhaustion. Not even when I saw Sena purely naked did this urge came about, though that could be explained to surprise and embarrassment getting in the way of my carnal desires. Unlike in the here and now, and I had no choice but to suffer with the effects these urges brought about in my physiology.

A cold shower sounded heavenly right now.

The sound of the doorbell derailed my musing and perverted thoughts. I stood up, readjusted my shorts a little, and approached the front door.

"Good morning, Kodaka-sama." Stella bowed once I completely opened the door. Her stoic expression was in place, and she held a heavy-looking bag that I believed contained Sena's stuff.

Behind her was a man in unbelievably simple clothing—a white T-shirt, denim jeans, and a pair of pure white sneakers. The style of his black hair was a carbon copy of mine but without the fringes. It must've been cut to prevent his piercing blue eyes from being shadowed. Even though he could blend into a crowd without difficulty, as if his non-existent uniqueness could swallow the curiosities of men and women alike whole that he'd go through life without someone looking back at him a second time.

Stella completed her bow and gestured to the man. "This is my friend, Hideki."

Hideki gave the customary bow of introduction. "Hideki Kurasawa. Pleasure to meet you."

I returned the gesture. "I'm Kodaka Hasegawa. Pleasure to meet you, too."

"How's Sena-sama, Kodaka-sama?" Stella asked.

"She's at the guest room upstairs, dressing."

"I see." It might be a trick of the sunlight, but I could swear there had been a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So . . . did you use condoms?"

Both I and her friend did a spit-take at her blunt question, made more unbelievably from left field when she did the fig sign with her left hand.

"No!"

Her eyes widened a little. "You did it bareback?" Then they narrowed. "You do realize you must take responsibility of any repercussions, Kodaka-sama."

"No! I mean I didn't have se—" I paused, not wanting to say that word so loudly in the morning. "I didn't do anything with Sena last night."

"So you fucked Sena-sama this morning?" I would've twitched at how blunt she could be and how adamant in her beliefs that I was a sex maniac smitten by her master's daughter.

"I . . . I . . ." Wild accusation after wild accusation, all leading to the same thing, began to take its toll on my shocked mind that coherence had decayed, leaving nothing but stutters and unfinished phrases.

Stella suddenly tapped my shoulders. "There, there, Kodaka-sama. No need to be nervous. I approve of your relationship." She gave me a thumbs-up.

And not once had she changed her stoic expression.

"I think you should end the teasing there, Stel," her friend advised, shaking his head ruefully. "The kid's as red as a tomato already."

She sighed. "Ahhh, the innocence of youth. It lifts my heart."

I honestly had no idea of the things that went on inside her head.

"But I still need to confirm if Kodaka-sama is telling the truth," she added, and once again I caught a glimpse of her eyes glinting mischievously. "White with green-colored outlines."

Instant images dashing into the forefront of my mind.

"The shocked eyes explain it all," Stella said slowly, almost dangerously, her sapphire eyes narrowing a quarter of an inch as her lips quirked higher at the ends. "Telling you the color of Sena-sama's nipples or the way she trimmed her pubic hair are useless because you have already seen her naked a few days ago."

"Wait," her friend interjected, "you mean he already saw your charge naked?" He looked at me with eyes containing a message between men I could not decipher at the time. "Man, you two move quick."

"I didn't do anything!"

"You knew what underwear Sena-sama had worn," Stella said. "Guilty as charged."

"But . . . that is . . . I . . . oh come on!"

"Relax awhile, Kodaka-sama. There is no harm done. Ufuhuhuhu."

"I'm not exactly relaxed when you laugh like a mischievous fox-girl."

"Well, joking aside"—this was not my idea of a good joke, by the way—"which way to the guestroom? I need to take this to Sena-sama now." She gestured to the heavy bag she was carrying.

I ruffled my blond hair and thumbed to the stairs over my shoulder. "Take the stairs up. It's the second door to the left."

She bowed gratefully, and I gave her a pair of slippers to wear inside. While she took the first step on the stairs, I was fishing out another pair for her companion, Hideki, but he refused.

"I'll just wait in the car," he said.

"I made breakfast, sir. Better to eat with more people." At least that was what my father often said.

He waved away my offer of a free meal. "Nah, I already had breakfast before Stel called me. To tell you the truth, I probably should thank you and Sena-chan for this."

"Why?"

He smiled. It was a strange smile. It was not as enigmatic as the smile of the Mona Lisa, but it still held certain qualities that just made the whole gesture seem hollow in a way. I guessed it was the eyes that gave it away, the very windows to the soul warning me of the wrongness hidden within that upward curve of that person's lips.

"I haven't seen Stel for over a year now."

"Eh?"

"Never mind that. Come outside for a sec, Hasegawa-kun."

"Okay, but are you sure you don't want a snack at least? I can get some now in the kitchen."

He shook his head. "Don't be so nervous, kid. I'm only the same age as Stel."

"I don't even know her age."

"Really? Well, that's good. If she had told you, you'd probably be dead and buried under an unmarked grave."

"Uh . . ." Why did I just sense a bit of parallelism between his sense of humor and Stella's?

"Come on out, Kodaka-kun. I need to talk to you for a bit. It won't take long."

I didn't know it, then, but this wouldn't be the last time I'd speak with Hideki. In some ways, he pushed me forward. In some ways, he dragged me to the mud. But in the end, it was from his wisdom alone that gave me the drive to no longer ignore the problems plaguing my heart and push forward to accept change, to accept love, something I had been too fearful to embrace since—

_**I like you, Hasegawa-kun! Please go out with me!**_

Since that day . . . I broke Jun's heart.

* * *

><p><em>The door to the guest room opened while she was busy adjusting the cups of her bra. She immediately thought of Kodaka entering the room unannounced. A scream, building within her throat, rose like the lava of an erupting volcano, but a hand had clamped her mouth before she could voice out her intent. She struggled for a while, thoughts racing on the evil deeds Kodaka might want to do and though this should be classified as rape, why was her strength leaving her? Why wasn't she putting more of a resistance to his advances that were completely out of line?<em>

_The scream had deformed into a muffle as the hand on her mouth stuck onto it like glue._

"_Be calm, Sena-sama. It's me."_

_That voice alone halted the resistance and released the tension in her muscles. Her heartbeat was still raging, but her nerves had already calmed a little._

"_Stella," she called, and turned around. "Don't scare me like that."_

"_My apologies, Sena-sama. I had gotten used to entering your room uninvited that I had forgotten my place and your current state of mind."_

"_My . . . huh?"_

_She cocked her head to the side, eyes widening, one hand rising to touch the lower cheek, and already she knew that her butler entered teasing mode. "Why, Sena-sama, don't tell me you did not think about spending the night with Kodaka-sama under the same roof?"_

_She turned her head away and crossed her arms. "I—I'm used to it. He did sleep at our house before."_

"_It is different, however," Stella replied. "Kodaka wouldn't dare lay a finger on you while knowing I and master were there to your rescue. Here, with no parental guidance, is an excellent place to give into hormones and act out your feelings to your heart's content."_

_She stayed silent, not out of speechlessness but out of bewilderment. She understood the gist about hormones and such, but the meaning Stella was no doubt trying to imply was completely lost to her._

"_So," Stella said, one hand raising to do the fig sign and bringing to light the meaning in a more direct way, "did you two have sex?"_

"_WE DID NOT HAVE SEX!" The reply was immediate, but it took a second later for her to realize screaming it out was a bad idea. She clasped her hands over her mouth, which offered no help anymore, not when the sound of her screeched five-word sentence echoed inside and outside this guestroom. She glared at the butler, trying not to think about Kodaka listening in._

"_Truly, Sena-sama? Truly, honestly, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die-ly?"_

"_What's with that last one?"_

"_Please do not dodge the question, Sena-sama."_

"_. . . no, we did not do anything." And she added in a mutter, "And it'll stay that way."_

"_I believe you that nothing happened," Stella said, "but I do not believe that it is everything you're telling me."_

_She stiffened, trying to look innocent and nonchalant, but the older woman had seen her reaction._

"_Is something amiss, Sena-sama?"_

_Here was Stella, the woman who took over Mama whenever she was too busy with her job abroad to come home during summer or Christmas breaks, the woman who kept on an expressionless façade but she, Sena, more than any other, was able to read her emotions with little trouble, the woman who broke a leg to protect her from a two-story drop when she was three, the woman she had come to view as a surrogate mother after all this time._

"_They say talking about it helps," the butler added, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside her._

_If she couldn't be open to her, who could she lessen the burden in her heart that grew and grew proportionately to the amount of time she spent with Kodaka? She had no gal friends to talk with, and while Yozora might—just _might_—be considered, there was no absolute way she was about to divulge this very private matter to that sadistic, evil, little snake._

_She was her rival, after all._

No,_ she thought bitterly,_ not anymore_._

_Hadn't she already decided to give up on this complicated situation? It was a blow to her pride to give up before really trying, but the consequences of failing at it brought more anxiety than getting the courage to say it to him outright. Kodaka was a special kind of guy, she knew that, had known it since that night they talked heart-to-heart with no boundaries or worries between them, and she'd be hard-pressed to find another one like him, but it was that kind of aura that made it difficult for her to broach this delicate subject to him. She wanted closure, yet she doubted she'd ever find them from the source of all her worries, at least until she could get over her fears and push forward like the Kashiwazaki she was._

_A prospect she intended to avoid. Fear was her enemy. Courage, however, did not become her ally, her salvation. The only thing left she could do about this budding romance was to let it take its natural course without nurture or sunlight. It would stay rooted in poor soil, unfed, unfettered, unattended to, and it would eventually die a natural death with none the wise to its existence except for her._

_But . . ._

_Did she really want things to stay like this? Was she really willing to let these feelings die without knowing what would happen if they eventually grow?_

_Was she about to let Kodaka go?_

"_Sena-sama." Stella patted the bed again._

_And, almost reluctantly, Sena sat down and opened up._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

I am not one for subplots, but I can't help including two here. The one of Stella and Hideki (one of a few OCs I'll be including here) won't be touched upon too deeply—this fic is mainly a Kodaka/Sena pairing—but whatever hints I give out from time to time hopefully will draw a good enough picture for you readers to draw your own events and their conclusions. There is a certain charm in adding complexity in relationships, and while I can manage with Kodaka trying to get to the "Sena as a girlfriend" goal in his own pace, I believe it would take too long and involve situations too . . . ludicrous to be ignored by probability. As such I needed to include a mentor—of a sort—for him as well as a bad experience from a past relationship.

Relationships, specifically romantic relationships, are downright confusing, especially to newcomers of this field. When your heart beats, your heart beats, that is true, but how do you go about initiating the first steps without blowing it all up in your face? I often see parallels between me and Kodaka (we both have problems with social interactions for one thing, though not in the same extreme as him; we're both "half-natives" but I look more Caucasian than him, who, with his naturally blond hair, was labeled a delinquent without preamble) and along those parallels is his obliviousness to romance when it is his turn to actually take the initiative. I don't see him taking the first step. I don't see him getting the courage to ask someone out. He already has problems making friends; the way he sees it, romance is already an unreachable goal unless he takes those precious first steps in becoming a riajuu. Which is where the mentor comes in.

I often wished I had an older brother figure, one who is experienced interacting with the opposite sex, when I was young—the advices I get from my classmates, who got wind of my crush on a certain someone, were practically useless babble like "Talk to her, then fuck her, my friend" or "get her number, then give it to me, my friend" or, my personal 'favorite', "Kill yourself already, you ain't got a chance with her." Yeah . . . I got really supportive friends. With friends like that, who needs enemies? Hahaha (honest laughter). I'm used to their tough love already if I can laugh and smile while I write. I'm sure with the way Kodaka's personality is and Sena's forceful ignorance of her feelings (now who does that remind me of, hmm . . . oh yeah, _the coward_—you'll understand if you read the end of Volume 7. It was kind of saddening) there'd be no progress whatsoever. As things are going, I want a swift and heartwarming conclusion. I know fiction has certain liberties that can ignore the harshness of reality, but I want their relationship to be dynamic and, most of all, resounding with _real_.

I might be overestimating my abilities for believing I'd write something to this kind of effect on readers, but frankly I don't give a damn. I consider it a milestone I aim to reach and nothing, not even doubt, will stop me from trying.


	7. Stella Joins The Party

Date written: 17/05/12 – 07/06/12

Posted on FanFiction: 16/06/12

A/N: Wooh! Finally done.

This chapter is the continuation of the previous and works its way up to the train ride. I managed to input a bit more insight on Stella's character, and I rather enjoyed writing her. I never intended for Stella to have a major role into this story, but with the way I'm directing her and this story, and how she keeps springing up with ways that make me laugh at their absurdity, I think I'll make something up to keep her appearance frequent after the end of summer and school starts up once more.

By the way, I've added an extra scene in the previous chapter so that it wouldn't end with that atrocious cliffhanger. Keep reading and reviewing and enjoy this next installment.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 7 ––<strong>

**Stella Joins the Party**

The summer sun and the dwindling cold of the air from the previous night were like vital components of a rejuvenating bath for my skin, warm and tingling, comforting yet contrasting. My eyes moved to the once empty parking space on the side of our house, where it was now occupied by a blue Toyota Alphard. It was of the older models—about a decade old, if I was not mistaken—but I could tell, even from an amateur's furtive glance, that the car was taken care of meticulously. I was not a big fan of cars—I only knew the brand and model of this one because my dad had owned one, a maroon-colored 2002 model—but I could still appreciate putting effort on maintaining an old minivan. I had no doubt the Alphard would be running the roads well after its twentieth year if this level of TLC were kept.

Stella's friend, Hideki, stood at the front gate, his hands in his pockets, his face neutral as two sapphire eyes stared right at me. In a way, I felt self-conscious. His gaze poured more than just simple interest; it felt like a father examining the positives and negatives of his daughter's boyfriend.

"So," I started, wanting to get out of his intimidating stare as quick as I could, "what did you want to talk about?" A more urgent question to ask would've been why he felt it better to talk under the blazing sun instead of the AC-cooled interior of my home, but his gaze seemed to stump my brain, building anxiety and nervousness in the most subtle ways that I probably wouldn't have noticed until it was too late. It was only because I realized I missed the chance of asking the obvious question that this revelation came to light. There was definitely something strange about this guy—dangerous was my first adjective of choice, but it didn't suit him. His gaze was intimidating, yes, but the rest of him didn't cry 'suspicious character' or 'man you must not trust.' Besides, Stella introduced him as a friend. He probably wasn't that bad.

"About graduating from your virginity, of course!" he said with a smile. And the fig sign.

. . . okay, maybe he was as bad as Stella.

"We did not have sex!" I covered my mouth immediately, darting my eyes at our neighbor's houses, wishing that they hadn't really heard my outburst.

Hideki laughed. "Stel was right. You _are_ easy to tease."

I glared at him, but he kept on laughing. It seemed my infamous (according to St. Chronica's student body) scowl was ineffective against him.

When he calmed down, he said, "Okay, okay, jokes aside, I honestly have something to talk about with you."

I decided to humor him, if only to get back inside faster so I could eat my breakfast. "Anymore jokes on my expense and I'm going back in."

"No more, I promise." He returned his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned on the left entrance post. I might've been a bit put off from his very laid back attitude, but maybe this was just how he was. My dad could be laid back at times, too, and it seemed to help him make friends and set acquaintances at ease, if they were not the uptight and business-minded of course. Bold informality was one of my dad's staples, and from what I heard, it was from this alone that he was able to sweep mom off her feet. I only wished I felt the same kind of ease Hideki and dad wanted to convey, but the posture alone brought unease instead; whenever I did that, the 'delinquent punk is scheming something' rumors just spread faster. I didn't want to be reminded of my inadequacy in social interactions.

"Well, to be blunt," he began, "what is your relationship with Sena Kashiwazaki?"

"Sena? We're clubmates, I guess."

His eyebrow rose. "Only clubmates? Even though you seem to be in a first name basis with her?"

I didn't have a proper explanation to rebuke that. It was more out of rivalry that Sena and I began speaking to each other without any additional suffixes. If it hadn't been for Yozora insisting on calling each other with our first names, then we might have continued with 'Kashiwazaki' and 'Hasegawa' exchanges. No . . . wait . . . now that I think of it a little more, maybe it was more accurate to say 'Kashiwazaki' and 'Yankee' exchanges. Sena made it a point to forget most of the names of her subordinates and people she wouldn't give the time of day for—specifically me—so they'd be stuck with nicknames that identified them from the crowd.

"There's a story behind that actually," I said, going for the briefest and vaguest explanation.

"Regardless," he replied, "what else do you feel for her?"

"What's with these questions anyway?" I asked back, knowing that my voice grew louder, yet I still didn't give a damn. "And in the first place, whatever relationship Sena and I _supposedly_ have, it has nothing to do with you!"

I had thought he would back down, but he just gave me a lopsided smile and raised his hands to a surrendering gesture. "I apologize if I offended you, Kodaka-kun. It's just that—"

"WE DID NOT HAVE SEX!" This was more of a wail than a cry of indignity, and it came from the second floor of my house. There was no need to state the shouting person's name.

I let out a sigh. There was no doubt the neighbors had heard Sena's outburst. No doubt at all.

"She went straight to the point too, huh?" Hideki said, though the question was more rhetorical than directed at me. He then added, "You can say Stel wanted to be sure of a few things, so she asked me to, and I quote, 'Interrogate Kodaka-sama to the best of your abilities, lest he escapes from whatever divine retribution I or my master will inflict upon him for desecrating Sena-sama's chastity.' Unquote."

"Are you serious here?" My right eye was twitching. When he nodded affirmatively, I sagged my shoulders. Being labeled as a delinquent by the student body was bad enough, now even the Kashiwazaki steward did not trust me.

"Hey now, kid, don't be so depressed. Knowing Stel, she must've omitted a few things from that request." His words did not affect me. "For example, she must've meant 'lest he escapes from whatever divine retribution I or my master will inflict upon him for desecrating Sena-sama's chastity _without me there_.'"

". . . no, that's a little hard to believe." Understatement. It was _incredibly_ hard to believe.

"Oh I don't know," he replied with a lopsided smile. "Stel could do much worse than that. And besides, didn't you hear her a while ago? She gave her approval, right?"

"But like I said, Sena and I aren't dating."

"And is that because you don't feel anything or too afraid to ask her out?"

I was speechless, not out of shock or shame, but indecision. I would admit that Sena was beautiful and we seemed to have connected a little better when we opened more of ourselves on that night, and I would also admit that the thought of dating her had crossed my mind once or twice, although it would've gotten discarded as a pointless endeavor anyway due to Sena's poisonous personality. It might've been enough to dissuade these thoughts that inevitably lead to complete disappointment, but I sensed something in Sena that tried prompting me to give this a go, that there was a chance she'd change for the better. Her rotten personality was born from her superiority complex, and for as long as she remembered, no one other than her father had scolded her. This was why she said that I was different from other guys—I was not afraid to speak my mind and speak of her faults. It was because of this that I believed she could change and have a better chance in making friends. No doubt dating her would answer some of these newfound feelings I had come across when I laid eyes on Sena's sleeping form, too.

But I couldn't.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I answered. If there had been even a slight quake or stutter when I said this, it would've shattered the whole illusion. I steeled my nerve; I steeled my heart. This was a problem I intended to remain hidden until it died from neglect. I already had problems making friends on my own, so what good would I be in romance?

The outcome with Jun answered more of my current self than the parting words she let my ears hear. So no, I wasn't about to go about with a relationship that'd end the same way as Jun did, broken and irreparable.

I thought Hideki would pursue his endeavor to gut me for more answers, ones that would satisfy his, and Stella's, curiosity but he merely shook his head, as if in disappointment. And he said, "If you don't want to talk, it's fine. It's none of my business anyway."

Damn right it wasn't.

Hideki opened his mouth again and, in a voice that could recite every word from a Charles Dickens novel without removing the passion carried along in his symphonic speech, said, "_It's so damn hard to bloom . . . to change. Even when you want to change, want it more than anything in the world, it's hard. Desire to change isn't enough. Or desperation. Couldn't be done without . . . love._"

"That sounded like a romance movie line," I replied dryly.

"It's actually from a suspense novel I've read some years ago. It happens to be my favorite quote."

"Yeah, but the meaning eludes me."

He shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying to impart important life's knowledge to the youth."

I grunted a non-descriptive response. My own hands were slipping into the pockets of my shorts as I took furtive glances at the front door. The sun basked onto our heads as if it were raining fire and heat, and whatever cold the night had imbued to the environment hours before was now gone. Not even a dew to moisten the grass on our yard. While there was no dew, there _was_ sweat rolling down my cheek.

"Go on and have breakfast, Kodaka-kun." Hideki tapped his wristwatch. "Stel said you're pressed for time."

I was more than happy to go back inside—the heat was becoming unbearable—but not until a part of my curiosity was sated. It was only fair that I ask my own questions about him.

"What exactly is your relationship with Stella-san, anyway?"

I had to ask. More than that, I wanted to know. Whenever I pictured him and her together, there was a huge contrast between them. One was quiet and stoic, the other was more expressive, more open. One was sneaky, the other was more of a disgrace if he was, in any way, related to my ninja ancestors, and not just in the stealth department. One was convinced of my supposed 'chastity robbing' and was prepared to instigate a punishment befitting of the situation: a shotgun marriage. The other . . . well, the other was content to hear my side of the story before drawing conclusions through easily misunderstood facts. Okay, maybe the whole shotgun marriage was a bit of an exaggeration, but this was Stella. I should at least be free to think of screwed up scenarios to make reality more bearable for me.

I did not forget Stella got me sleeping in the same bed as Pegasus. I did not forget the embarrassment caused by most of her inappropriate comments. And I surely did not forget how she was able to breach through the limit of my patience and slammed her name to the top of my 'People I Cannot Put Up With' list.

Nope. I did not forget at all. That conniving yellow fox . . .

"With Stel? Why do you want to know?"

"You were asking me about Sena."

"Ah, is this like a you-scratch-my-back-and-I-scratch-yours play? Quite a development of events. It's like a weekend night drama."

"No, it's not," I retorted, "and please don't change the subject."

He stopped leaning on the gate post, walked two paces towards me. His hands returned into his pockets. I'd seen him do this more than a few times that it must be either his way of coping with nervousness and a default pose when it was time for him to direct or be directed with confrontations, or it was just a way for him to look cool. When it came to him, I couldn't tell which was false, if there was a false to begin with anyway.

"You could say we're really close friends," he answered. I spotted no nervous tics, no agitated hair-brushing, no guilt-ridden glances to the corners of his eyes. It was a complete turnaround from the enigmatic smile he showed me minutes before. He had a better poker face than I ever could match.

"Close enough to call her 'Stel?'"

He chuckled. "It used to be 'Stel-chan' but she didn't like it. Not one bit." In a move reminiscent of spreading shaving cream with your bare hands, he rubbed his cheek, half-smiling, half-grimacing. "Not one bit at all."

"I'm almost afraid to have you elaborate."

"It'd save your insanity, I guess. High school with Stel as your friend can be a very surreal experience."

"So you knew each other since high school, huh?"

"Actually, we've been classmates since junior high. We were the only half-Japs in class, too, so it was easy for us to hit it off."

"Were you bullied because of . . .?"

"I'd be lying if I said racism was nonexistent when I attended St. Chronica, but it was not outright hatred of my skin or my blue eyes or because I _looked_ different from the rest. It's the subtle kind, you know. A sort-of . . . ingrained psychological response for something uncommon, something your mind deems a little unnatural. I guess not reaching out and socializing might've been a factor, but in the end, my classmates didn't approach me because I looked too intimidating to them."

"Intimidating? You?"

He shrugged. "I always have a serious look on my face when I daydream, and I daydreamed _a lot_ during those days. Still do, though I was able to cut that nasty habit."

"Daydreaming?"

"No, the serious look. Now I sport a thousand yard stare instead." He also showed me the peace sign, as if he were proud of this apparent achievement. I tried envisioning him with a scowl and it didn't match well with the impression I have of him. Next I tried envisioning him with the thousand yard stare—the glazed look where his eyes weren't really looking, just open and staring at nothing—and he looked more like a guy coming out of a whorehouse.

"I don't see how that's terrifying," I admitted.

He just shrugged and moved towards the parked car. He didn't say anything else, and left with no other question to ask—my mind was erased of all curious questions it could conjure within a small timeframe and its cause was still lost to me to this day—I turned away and went back inside.

I heard footsteps descending from the staircase. There was Sena and Stella, both out of their familiar clothing and replaced with ones that were more suited for a hot day like today. While Sena opted for a blue summer dress that ends midway to her thighs, Stella wore a long white singlet with deep armholes reaching the bottom of her ribs. Fortunately she wore a sky blue tank top underneath, and the singlet was long enough to be considered a dress itself but I espied a pair of black cycling shorts underneath it—not that I was looking there specifically, you understand! Stella had Sena go down first and I was already looking at them when my eyes observed the black from the white. I didn't do anything perverted at all.

"But you still saw under my singlet, Kodaka-sama."

HOW THE HELL DOES SHE DO THAT?

"Do you have ESP?" I asked. The paranoid part of myself was constantly theorizing how she kept knowing things she shouldn't know about, yet for all the time I had invested into coming up with a valid reason for this beyond normal phenomenon, it was still a complete blank.

She cocked her head to the side like a cat's, looking at me with those dull blue eyes that forced me to hide a small shiver coursing through my spine from the two women. Sena, confused at my sudden question and Stella's earlier comment, moved her head from me to Stella as if she were watching a tennis match.

"Did I miss something?" she asked us, her face showing how this conversation was making her suspect something.

I frantically assured her that this was nothing and Stella seconded, though her attempt was more sedated and calm, as if she'd been making excuses like this since time immemorial.

We came into the dining room eventually, and I served the two blondes healthy servings of my prized breakfast. Kobato was almost done by the time we all sat down to eat, but I guessed that was what she wanted to do. The last time she had a mealtime with Sena, the older girl was adamant in being the one to feed her. That sort of attention seemed to put her off, so her disregard of waiting for the guests before eating was the best she could come up with, although I'd have to have a few words with her later.

"I have to ask," I said, prompting all three females to look at me, but I focused my gaze on Stella, "why did you change your clothes?"

The female butler, stoic and unmoving from her last position, looked to be thinking this over. And when her chopsticks started moving again, she said, "Because I felt like it."

"And she'll coming with us for the trip," Sena added.

"Eh? Stella-san's coming with us?" I asked.

Sena nodded. "We talked about it upstairs and I agreed." She smiled. "It'd be more fun that way."

"I don't know if Yozora would like you increasing the roster of our training camp."

"Hmph! She will just have to suck it up. We're using _my_ family's beach house, aren't we?"

"I—I guess you're right."

"You don't need to guess, Kodaka. I am always right."

"Yeah, yeah," I answered dismissively and returned to my breakfast. Hmm . . . mental note: the eggs require another pinch of salt.

We finished breakfast, and Stella offered to do the dishes while we siblings changed to more appropriate attire. Of course I refused because it'd be discourteous of me to let a guest do this chore, but she was quite stubborn and laced her every word with the powers of her silver tongue. I was manipulated out of the final phase of the Hasegawa breakfast ritual which was in effect daily since we moved back into this house. Today would mark the first day I presented the task willingly to another, and I had mixed feelings that it had to be Stella.

Anyway, I ended up heading upstairs with Kobato while Stella and Sena stayed in the kitchen to chat about something. I didn't hear anything past eight words from them since I closed the living door behind me. In any case, it was time to get changed, put the luggage in the minivan, and head for the train station.

* * *

><p>There was barely traffic that morning in Tohya as Hideki's car rolled through the roads, heading for our final destination. His minivan had enough room to taxi ten people at once—thirteen if the passengers wouldn't mind squeezing space a little—but the seating arrangements were still constricting. Stella opted for shotgun, and Hideki didn't seem to mind. It was with Kobato and Sena that lay the problem. After setting our luggage at the trunk, I sat myself on the first row of the backseats, my left to the window, and Kobato immediately followed. Sena, however, did not want to pass up any chance to be close to my little sister, thus assembled the foldable seat at the edge to make a two-seater into a three.<p>

Kobato reacted as expected and wanted me to change seats with her, but I refused. She needed to improve her tolerance of Sena, and this seemed like the best way to do that. She gave me a dirty look, looking as if I had done something unforgivable, but it swiftly morphed into irritation when Sena began talking to her.

This was what the journey from our home to the train station was like. There was no change in our behavior—me sightseeing out the window, Sena gushing over Kobato, Kobato ignoring any and all attempts of conversation from Sena, Stella staying quiet and statue-esque from her shotgun seat, and Hideki tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as AC/DC's Highway To Hell banged through the minivan's speakers—although I wished there was better music to listen to than a track I first heard from Final Destination 2.

When we arrived at the station, I planned to carry everyone's bags, seeing as I was the male of our traveling group, but Stella and Hideki beat me to the former's and Sena's bags.

"It'd be a disgrace for a steward such as I to let Kodaka-sama carry over my job. I'll take care of Sena-sama's luggage," was her excuse.

"I'm just being a gentleman to Stel," was his excuse, which he added quietly, "and I'd pay for it if I didn't offer to help." He didn't mean to be heard, so when he realized I did catch what he muttered, he winked and lifted Stella's luggage over his shoulder.

We entered the station and arrived just in time, for the rest of the Neighbors Club were waiting for us at the ticket booth. I waved back at Rika's enthusiastic greeting and grimaced at how unoriginal her summerwear was—the usual St. Chronica uniform covered with a labcoat. Yukimura decided on the same motif, wearing the maid uniform he always wore when we were in the clubroom. And Maria, whether I could blame it at her lack of clothing choice or just her comfort in the outfit itself, she came here wearing the St. Chronica nun uniform she wore to school. Thankfully, Yozora wore something more normal than the rest and it was ideal for this hot summer day. Short shorts and a sleeveless purple shirt.

"Hey, guys," I greeted. "Have you been waiting long?"

Yozora spoke up, "I came here twenty minutes before Yukimura."

Before Yukimura could say anything, I held up a hand. "Stop! No more mathematical time problems. We need to get moving if we don't want to miss the train."

"Ne, ne, Onii-chan, who are they?" Maria pointed at the two adults who came with me.

Stella bowed at them, and Sena stepped forward for the introduction. "This is Stella, my family's steward, and this is her friend, Kurasawa-ooji-san." Getting included into the introduction, Hideki also bowed. "They drove us here."

"Us?" Yozora asked, picking up on that collective pronoun right away.

Sena, acting all smug, replied, "Why yes. _Us_. As in, me and Kobato-chan and Kodaka."

Yozora clicked her teeth and I sensed the two were about to start on their arguments again. I turned to Stella, wanting to convey that it was a common occurrence whenever the two of them were together, always competing, always acting out petty rivalries, but the steward did not bat an eye at the string of insults Yozora began to spit out of her mouth. She looked quite curious at the sight of Yukimura, who looked back at her with the stoic face I always saw there.

. . .

Oh, I see. A girl wearing a butler uniform. A guy wearing a maid uniform. In some weird way, the two were channeling similar wavelengths and found a kind of camaraderie in their shared interest for cross-dressing and keeping up a poker face 24/7.

Then Yukimura asked me, "Is Aniki . . . replacing me?"

"Eh?"

"Is this person . . . my replacement, Aniki?" I could not help noticing the beginning of tears forming in Yukimura's eyes. It was such a heart-wrenching sight that I reacted without thinking.

"No! No, not at all, Yukimura. She's Sena's steward not mine. You'll always be my underling, okay?"

"Will I be forever your underling?"

Forever was kind of pushing it, and I would've started on about how we couldn't possibly be together forever like some married couple, but just one glance at his glistening brown eyes shattered that heartless notion. How cruel of me to let a—

_He's a guy!_

I shook my head fiercely. Somehow during the brief contemplation of Yukimura's comment and the expression he showed at that time proved to have overridden, or rather delayed, my usual response of him being of the same gender as I. If not for that little fact, Yukimura would've been a cute little lady enacting the puppy dog pout. No self-respecting man would fall for this gesture when it was done by another guy, no matter how effeminate he looked, no matter how the maid dress emphasized her cuteness, no matter how much his logic started screaming and pleading that he come to his senses and admit that there was just no way for a guy to look that feminine even _with_ plastic surgery.

"You mean Aniki doesn't want me to be his underling forever?"

Crap. In my haste to shake my head from my rambling thoughts, Yukimura took that action as my negative response to his earlier question. "Ah, no, I mean . . ." I just couldn't say the right thing at all in this situation.

"I believe what Kodaka-sama wishes to say," Stella cut in, "is that you can't forever be an underling. There will come a time when you'll climb up the ranks and eventually become his equal."

"But," Yukimura replied, "I do not wish to be his equal. Serving under Aniki brings more honor to me than I am worthy of. To stand beside him as an equal will tarnish my oath of servitude."

"I see your point, Yukimura Kusonoki, but to keep this up will stagnate your bond with Kodaka-sama."

At the end of Stella's statement, Yukimura froze, his hands gripping his suitcase tighter as the thought swam around in his mind before registering completely. "Stagnate . . . my bond?"

Stella nodded. I tuned them out, hoping she could take things from here; I doubted I'd give helpful input to whatever she was about to discuss.

In the background, Yozora and Sena were still going at it like two territorial tomcats, but at least they kept their voices soft and basically mute compared to the hustle and bustle of assorted noises pervading the morning station rush hour like a thick fog. A few heads turned our way, the kind of curiosity where you hear a loud bang and can't help looking to where it had sounded from, but that was all these people did before returning to their old train of thought and before their brains slowly began the process of dissolving their short-term memory of our existence in their lives.

I only realized now that it wasn't just Yozora and Sena who were getting attention from passersby. Stella and Yukimura already made this group of ours an odd bunch because of the blatant cross-dressing, although it'd take telling each of these onlookers to their faces that Yukimura's a male. What instilled more of their temporary curiosity was the sight of a ten-year-old nun having a rather tame catfight with a blonde Goth girl. My eyes looked between Yozora and Sena, and then Maria and Kobato. I couldn't push back the sigh from escaping my mouth. They were definitely dishonest about their closeness, hiding their intentions through glares and sneers, while reinforcing them with mutual physical or verbal violence.

Yeah, we were a weird bunch, all right.

My eyes darted to Hideki, who set down Stella's luggage next to me, and approached the member in our group who wasn't engaged in any conversation other than the wave we gave each other. I heard them introduce each other, shaking hands and Hideki praising her about her being a genius girl and such. Rika actually had the decency to blush at the compliments, and I found the way her cheeks lit up like two healthy tomatoes was undoubtedly cute.

The two archenemies were really tearing at each other, and when Sena started to raise her voice, no doubt getting agitated of how every insult she threw at Yozora was ineffective and usually thrown back at her, they were beginning to attract more attention from the people around us. I looked to Stella, who conceded the staring contest with Yukimura early because she, too, heard the rising commotion between her charge and her charge's clubmate. I bowed my head in apology to her, hoping she'd go easy on Yozora. For all that the girl and her poisonous mouth was, not once had I heard her talk that way to an adult.

"Mikazuki-san," she called, halting another batch of hate-laced words coming out of the brunette's mouth. When Yozora turned her attention to her, Stella advised, "please refrain from these arguments while I am here. It is unbecoming of St. Chronica students to engage in such activities in public."

"But she started it!" Sena complained.

And Stella responded with a glare that instantly got Sena quiet. I guess Stella had more leeway in raising Sena than I thought, seeing that the fear from this glare seemed to stem from childhood memories than recent anxieties. If not, Sena wouldn't have bowed her head like a child hanging her head in shame before her parent began a scolding of a lifetime. I almost forgot that the steward practically raised Sena from her early childhood.

"I meant for both of you," Stella said, her glare dissipating once it was clear Sena had become one-hundred percent submissive. "_Do not bear a grudge against others, but settle your differences with them, so that you will not commit a sin because of them. Do not take revenge on others or continue to hate them, but love your neighbors as you love yourself._ Leviticus, Chapter Nineteen, Verses Seventeen to Eighteen." She turned to Yozora. "Isn't that what the Neighbors Club is about? To make friends, the words of the Bible should at least be followed."

"Love thy neighbor, huh," I murmured, keeping my eye on the equally submissive Yozora. I didn't know what her mind was thinking, but her face was enough of an indication that she couldn't win a fight against this person. I'd call her suicidal if she truly desired to pick a fight with someone like Stella.

"Yes." Yozora twirled a lock of her long black hair and kept her gaze away from the female butler. "But don't get us wrong. This was just our usual banter with each other."

"Banter? It did not seem that way for my ears. Sena-sama was close to tears."

She crossed her arms. "Sena was just being overdramatic."

A beat passed, and if this were like those old Saturday morning American cartoons, the sound of a screeching vinyl record would've been heard a mile away followed by the processing silence. And then slight pandemonium ensued.

"Did you just call her _Sena_?" This was me.

"Rika believes the Apocalypse is upon us. Yozora-senpai just called Sena-senpai by her name."

"Anego has now graced Sena-anego with her true name."

"Did you just call me _Sena_?"

Attacked by almost everyone in the club, Yozora had to face the scrutinizing gaze of Sena's butler as her suspicions were slowly confirming the many stories Sena had undoubtedly relayed of some of the unfortunate things Yozora had done to her since she joined the club.

"Your club members seemed surprised, Mikazuki-san. Were you referring to Sena-sama with her surname? No, that wouldn't be right. You two seem highly competitive; it would not be too odd for me to surmise that if Sena-sama had started calling Kodaka-sama on a first name basis, then you would've followed in as well. Sena-sama uses your first name . . . hmm . . . practically everyone in this club uses their first names. But why the surprise in the members for calling her Sena?" She paused in thought, and then asked, "Did you perhaps give Sena-sama a nickname?"

"Y-Yeah, I did." She was still looking away.

"And . . .?"

This was bad. If this pattern were to continue, it'd end up with Stella informing Chairman Pegasus of Yozora's less than savory nickname and remarks directed at his only daughter. Knowing how protective he could be—if he wasn't, why would he entrust her safety to me, who will be his eyes and ears in the school whenever he's too busy to check up on her?—this situation would put Yozora's high school life in jeopardy. I had little knowledge of the amount of leverage the chairman had in disrupting a student's continued enrolment in St. Chronica, mostly because I couldn't put into actuality the chance of a student being kicked out of school for insulting the chairman's daughter. It might just be my ignorance of such politics within the educational board and faculty, maybe even belittling how much hidden agendas were about that I and many other students are not aware of, but these sentiments would not deter my decision. If it came to the Chairman, I did not wish to gamble about this. I had to act fast.

"And Sena actually likes it," I interjected, silently urging Sena to go along with where I was going. Actually seeing an affirmation from her put me at ease; I wasn't the only one who realized what would happen if the wrong thing was said.

"Yeah, you don't need to worry so much about it," Sena said.

Stella said to her, "You like being called Meat?"

The three of us stiffened. How . . .?

Trying to get over her shock, Sena pointed at the butler and asked "How did you—"

"Know?" Stella interrupted, and raised one eyebrow. "You have been quite vocal of what happens in the club, Sena-sama. Especially when Mikazuki-san brought you to tears and you subsequently fled the clubroom."

This . . . this was bad. Really bad. The rest of the conversations in our little group halted when the tension between the three women and I rose to ungodly levels. Kobato and Maria squirmed in their last positions, my sister grabbing hold of one lock of Maria's silver hair as the child nun pinched Kobato's nose and grabbed ahold of the hand clutching her hair. Rika was silent, rotating her head between the four of us, looking like she was absorbing every expression, every word, every gesture we were articulating throughout the course of our talk. Yukimura kept his gaze on me, like an ever vigilant samurai awaiting for the hidden knife that would stab me from any direction. And Hideki . . . well, he just rolled his eyes and murmured something that was blocked from Stella's louder, monotonous voice.

When Sena was about to retort, Stella held up a hand. "Be that as it may, I'll leave things to your discretion. You're growing up, Sena-sama. I believe it is better I let you decide things on your own."

Silence permeated between us, not one of us could put up a retort to what she said, or maybe we were still reeling from the brush with death that Stella had unknowingly started radiating since she showed she was aware of her charge's first ever nickname.

Stella then coughed and bowed a little. "We should move to our terminal with haste. It is almost the time of the train's departure."

* * *

><p>What went on between Stella and me?<p>

Well, that was a complicated situation if I ever saw one. On one hand, she was the steward of the Kashiwazaki family, and while she was quite diligent with her job, keeping an eye on Sena, helping her out when she needed it, and acting out her role as surrogate mother while Sena's real mother was busying herself abroad, she also had a personality that could make you cross-eyed. That was where the other hand shows. She wasn't as emotionless and stoic as a robot most of the time, from what I could gather from Hideki.

"She's far more expressive than when she was in high school," he had said, as I followed his pace while the rest of the girls went on ahead. The boys, excluding Yukimura, were designated as the baggage carriers, and I almost dreaded the time when we were finished using these trains; Hideki wouldn't be coming with us, after all.

"What do you mean? Didn't anybody try to talk to her?"

Hideki shook his head. His smile felt bitter and hurt. "Believe me, they've tried, but she paid no heed. It was as if they were little more than rocks in her world. The kind of rocks you could see anywhere."

"So how did you two meet?" This question rolled out of my mouth before I had the chance to think it over. It only meant that I was very much intrigued with how a supposedly _more_ emotionless version of Stella got to meet with the happy-go-lucky but dependable-looking Hideki.

But before he could retort, we were already at the terminal gate, the place where we feed a machine our train tickets. This was where we would part ways; Hideki wasn't coming with us, after all. The girls, plus Yukimura, already entered the other side. Only Stella didn't pass, moving back to us and waiting for Hideki to transfer every luggage he carried onto her.

Hideki gave it to her without a word. She gave a nod, a smile (I couldn't be sure, or maybe it was just my eyes tricking me), and proceeded through the gate. I looked at Hideki and he looked at me. He offered me a smile of his own.

"We met normally enough," he said, "but that's just me summarizing an interesting story. I'll tell you about it some other time."

His last sentence sounded more of a question than a statement, but I nodded anyway. His smile grew and he gestured to the terminal. The girls were looking at me, waiting for me. Each one plastered with their own expression: a smile, an expectant look, an impatient frown, even a stoic gaze. Then I thought about how each of us first met.

Yeah, we of the Neighbors Club met each other normally enough . . . but each contained an interesting story all on its own. Catching Yozora speaking with her imaginary friend, Tomo-chan; Sena solving the word puzzle of Yozora's bewildering club recruitment poster; Maria sleeping in the clubroom one day, her innocence the very image of a ten-year-old child; Rika succumbing to a knockout gas experiment and me having to carry her to the nurse's office; Yukimura 'stalking' me to better understand my manliness so he could mimic it. And the crazy misadventures we'd gone through in club activities.

In my heart of hearts, I knew that this training camp would provide its own set of situations for interesting turns of our lives. We had no idea what was in store for us, but that was the wonder in the unknown. You never knew the surprises life had in store.

"All right," I said to him, and smiled. Only a little. The upper curve of my lips still instilled terror upon the people who bear witness to it.

"If possible, you can ask Stel about it." He paused, and then added, "Or maybe not. She embezzles sometimes."

"Stella-san embezzles?"

"For teasing." He shrugged as if it were a common inconvenience, like the annoying squeaks of a rusty door. "I've been a victim so many times, I lost count."

"Come to think of it, she tends to put me in embarrassing situations." Not to mention scarring. If you wake up in a bed that did not feel like your own, opened your eyes and the first thing you saw was the close-up of a middle-aged man groaning and whispering your father's name . . .

"Better be careful, then. Once she found a ripe target to fill her need, she'll certainly savor the taste till the end."

"Huh?"

"It basically means she'll be teasing you to no end for the whole time she's with you guys."

Ugh. I hoped he was joking. I really, _really_ hoped he was joking.

* * *

><p>We changed trains once we trekked into less urban areas. The trains here were older, but still had air-conditioning and comfortable seats to relax our backs on. And I believed the best part was the lack of other passengers. Packed trains like the ones I often take in and around Tohya City, sometimes even in the neighboring city of Nagoya on the busier days of the week, they charmed themselves into my memory of both good and bad. The bad thing was when it was packed, the heat was astounding, especially during summer. The good thing was that the trains, being of the newer models, were equipped with better air-conditioning so it wasn't unbearable.<p>

This next train we were boarding would be the last before it dropped us off to the area where the Kashiwazaki summerhouse was located. After I put away our luggage, I sat down on one of the many vacant seats. Maria enthusiastically situated herself on the seat next to me while Yukimura and Kobato sat opposite us. Sena and Yozora had these irritated looks on their faces when I turned their way, but regardless that the cause of their irritation escaped me, they about-faced and took up the seats there. Stella followed gracefully, placing her and Sena's luggage in the upper compartment beforehand. Rika . . . well, after settling her own luggage, she quickly dashed out of the car. I didn't know, and really didn't _want_ to know, what she was up to.

To pass the time through our journey, the four of us played Old Maid. It was more of a thinly veiled competition between Kobato and Maria than of us four enjoying the game itself. Yukimura and I played better than the kids, but that did not deter their determination to see the other be saddled with the Old Maid card. It got to a point where they deliberately place the Old Maid card out for their rival to draw, so it became degraded from a competition to a tennis match where they throw the undesired card back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I was about to voice their immaturity, absently ignoring the fact that one of them was _ten_, when I received a message on my phone. It vibrated in my pocket, silent and strong, and when I fished it out, the sender's name blared on the screen. The name raised an eyebrow and I peered at her from the corner of my eye.

Stella did not have her cell phone in hand. Instead she was looking out into the scenery. Unlike the loud, active members on our side, the three seated women were keeping their businesses to themselves. Yozora with her reading, Sena with her PSP playing. With her hobbies or how she spends her free time unknown to me, I had quite the trouble figuring out whether her sightseeing was a normal activity or her way to hide something sinister. I didn't know where the latter idea came from, but I instinctually raised my guard as my finger hovered over the Open button.

I took a breath. There was an audible click and beep from my phone.

_To: Kodaka_

_From: Stella_

_Dear Kodaka-sama,_

_I believe this is my very first text to you. I don't know what to say for starters, but I humbly wish to hear what you think of what I had written so far. I shall be eagerly waiting for your reply._

_Stella_

It was a simple message, if just a ramble for the first text craze. I did the same thing when I sent Yozora my very first text message the day we exchanged emails. Other than a reply for the question she asked at the time, I felt my message was need of more spunk and words and phrases. The next thing I knew, a whole wall of text was born, filled with nonsense that plagued the part after my answer to the question. After a few more exchanges, I toned down my excitement and kept things simple.

Simplicity and brevity were often better replies than senseless ramble. But I had to question whether or not if this was Stella's first text message. She already gave me two calls and most likely had great communication with Sena whenever she went out, be they through email or call did not matter. Still, I decided to keep my reply, like all other replies I gave nowadays.

_To: Stella_

_From: Kodaka_

_It's okay to be more open, you know. But why text me? We could just talk normally. We're barely five feet away from each other._

_Kodaka_

I sent the text and looked at Stella. She fished out her cell phone—a touchscreen phone not unlike the one Rika used, the i-something or other. Her thumb moved like lightning, pressing against the flat screen as if she were playing a mini-version of Whack-A-Mole, and her eyes moved my way. Our eyes met and I immediately turned my attention back to the card game—Maria and Kobato were still at it, passing each other the Old Maid with neither letting up their vigor and determination—but my hand held onto my phone, waiting for a vibrating signal that might not come if Stella decided to be more direct.

I should've expected this wouldn't happen. She sent me another text, but it was more of a picture message than a wall of Japanese characters. Before the image, she wrote a message.

_I took this while we were still at your house. Please examine it thoroughly, Kodaka-sama._

The picture was an image of a horizontally striped cloth of white and blue. The cloth wasn't wrinkly, but the image's resolution was high enough and my phone's screen was big enough for me to discern the characteristics of fabric nonetheless. But what was this picture of, anyway?

I scrolled down and found another brief message.

_This is Sena-sama's striped panties . . ._

"GEH!"

My startled shout turned the heads of everyone in the club. Naturally, Stella kept her gaze at the window as if my blushed face and the contents of the email she sent me had nothing to do with her.

"What is it, Onii-chan?"

"Does something trouble you, Aniki?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm okay. Just a little startled at this mobile story I'm reading." I gestured to my phone, stealthily pressing the back key so they wouldn't have a chance of seeing the picture. I took a glance at Sena and saw her looking at me with interest. My eyes _traitorously_ lowered their gaze to her waist and my mind immediately imagined those stripes.

Steeeeeeellllaaaaaaaaa . . .

I turned back to my phone and was about to start a reply when I received another message from Stella:

_That was a joke, Kodaka-sama. I was merely joking around. Hahaha. (-.-)_

I gave a sigh, resisting the urge to rub the bridge of my nose. It was better I did not show my irritation in front of everyone unless I intended to put more suspicion upon my apparent mobile phone story excuse. A gobbler of literature as I was, I did not partake in the mobile phone story craze as most of the other people in my age group. There was just something missing in the crisp and textbook-like prose in the stories I tried and failed to finish, not out of disinterest but out of dissatisfaction the experience gave me. Yozora's aware of this since she herself abhorred the shortness and monotony of mobile phone stories, so I expected her to be the most suspicious, but she just went back to reading.

I went to work with my message, starting off with a slight scolding, despite that I did not have the right to do so with a person who was my senior. And seriously, if she wanted to include emoticons, the least she could do was give it some emotion. What was that face in the end supposed to mean?

Was it a way for her to keep up the façade? Stoic in appearance, stoic in texts?

When I was about to go on with the main body, I received another message from Stella:

_To tell you the truth, they're actually my striped panties. _

"GEH!"

The second time prompted more thorough evaluation from my co-members, and the suspicion glint in Yozora's eyes were already forming. Glaring at Stella would do nothing because she was still looking out the window without a care in the world, but I was certain—more than certain, I believed that she was smiling sadistically behind that apathetic façade.

"Excuse me. Just need to go to the toilet." I stood up, headed for the car door, and stepped into the bridge for the next car. The breeze whizzing through this small gap, the clanking of metal rails against the metal tracks, and the subtle vibrations passing through my feet made me feel like I had entered a different world. If it were up to me, I wished it'd stay that way for the entire ride. The suspicious gazes from the girls were unbearably potent and if Yozora had asked persistently about the so-called mobile phone story, I might end up showing her the picture. Whether they were Stella's or Sena's—this thought alone made me blush, but I did not know that—it was still like an upskirt photo and Yozora might draw the wrong conclusions. I had no choice but to leave before they started their interrogation. Granted, I was merely delaying the inevitable, but by the time we reached our stop, I would've thought up an excuse to explain certain parts. The depravity of the mobile phone story had to be exaggerated, in such a way that I went to the bathroom to throw up and subsequently deleted the thing from my phone.

That should placate Yozora and the others from asking any further. But still, this slim escape from a frame up . . .

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes settling on the patch of blonde hair jutting from the train seat facing the same direction as I. She planned this. I had no doubt about it and I don't care if you call me paranoid or delusional, the steward planned this!

My phone vibrated again.

_I did not plan this at all, Kodaka-sama. (-.-)_

. . .

. . . really, did she have ESP or something? Because her knowing something she shouldn't was starting to creep me out.


	8. Under the Setting Sun

Date written: 26/06/12 – 18/09/12

Posted on FanFiction: 18/09/12

A/N: Okay, guys, here's the next chapter. It was a very hectic little chappy, especially when I stumbled upon a huge roadblock (note: writer's block) midway and decided to pursue my other works while my muse percolates and plots out what direction I should be leading this part of the story. In consequence, though, the pace had gone a lot slower than I intended—my original plan was to be a little brief, devote 2 chapters on the beach retreat at the most—and this might drag on for three more chapters.

There's also the fact that I'm busy as heck until the end of November (sigh . . . I'm gonna miss another year of NaNoWriMo, dammit!), so updates will still be scarce. I won't be promising an immediate update, but I'll do what I can during my spare time.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 8 ––<strong>

**Under the Setting Sun**

"THE SEA!"

It only took a second for me to conclude that this was a failure.

A big and utter failure.

With the lack of enthusiasm tagging alongside the shyness, I started out strong but withered after the cry of the first syllable. Sena put more effort than I, but even her shout quieted as it progressed to the end. What put most of my attention, however, was the strange crane pose she took. Everybody else settled with either putting their arms up or not moving at all.

Maria apparently was the sole person with no inhibitions and capitalized on the club's spontaneous club activity. Kobato came close, but her shout made as much sense as saying the sun is the epitome of water. I doubted her use of archaic vocabulary was even accurate. Rika might've joined in, but sand got into her throat and she ended up coughing and wheezing as the earlier excitement of finally acting like a bunch of riajuu had sunk on its maiden voyage. As for Yukimura and Yozora . . . well, despite her claim to join with the cheer, Yozora didn't say a thing at all, opting instead to cross her arms and glare at the sea itself. Yozora, no matter how much you glare, the sea wouldn't be able to read your mind shouting "THE SEA!" Yukimura might've cried those two words, too, but it was either his voice was so soft when he said it that I couldn't hear it from the noise coming from Maria and the others, or he too felt embarrassment once the activity actually started. But I guess whichever it was didn't matter.

Because with just one true and successful participant out of the seven members, this little stunt was deemed a failure by the majority. The penetrating gaze of Stella behind us accentuated the awkwardness, not to mention my embarrassment, which had gone up a few notches.

Why didn't we settle for just having fun at the beach without all these riajuu rituals?

"There is no such ritual, Kodaka-sama," Stella said. "As far as I know, normal people don't do this on the account of human shame and the utter urge for those in hearing range to say, 'You don't say?' in a sarcastic tone."

"Is—is that so?"

She nodded.

". . ."

"You don't say?"

"You were waiting for a chance to say that, weren't you?"

"No comment." She said that but why did she look away as if she were guilty of something?

Yozora coughed on her hand and said, "Anyway, the start of the Neighbors Club's outdoor activity begins now!"

Like flicking a switch, the confused and somber environment turned for the better, as the two youngest of the group whooped in joy. The others provided similar cheers, but I decided to hang back and set up our beach paraphernalia. As I turned back, I saw Stella already in the midst of spreading the beach blanket on the sand. Like the rest, she was out of the butler uniform and into a two-piece swimsuit. If I had any doubt about Stella influencing Sena with certain fashion tastes and choices of swimwear, then they were utterly erased as of this moment. Her ensemble was just as impressive as her charge's, able to mystify the eye without revealing too much indecent skin. While Sena opted for the blue and yellow bikini she had worn when we went to the pool, Stella wore a red and white version, with silhouettes of hibiscuses etched in. Sena's swimwear had white silhouettes of the flower.

I approached her and offered my help. She straightened out the wrinkles on the blanket before addressing me in her monotonous speech, "There will be no need of that, Kodaka-sama. Please take this time to enjoy your stay here."

"Oh don't worry I will." That I had no doubt on; a beach all to ourselves required to be capitalized for all it was worth since we might not experience something like this again. "But I'd feel bad if I let you do all the work, though."

I met her eyes, calculating, unreadable.

She eventually nodded. "Arguing with you would be pointless. Bring the bags and the floatation devices here."

"Yes, ma'am."

I did what she asked. The swim tubes and other beach toys had been fed with air before we descended to the beach, so I decided to start with providing shade. The beach umbrella was opened and I pierced it on the sad just to the side of the blanket farthest to the beach. A few adjustments for optimum shading and I went about setting up the other stuff onto the blanket, the cooler, our towels, and most importantly, a bottle of sunscreen.

"Ahahaha. The blue sky, the white waves, and the sun above. They all call for me. Yay!"

Speaking of sunscreen . . .

"Kobato! Put on sunscreen before you go play."

"Hmm, wise advice, my kinsman. Skin burnt from sunlight is ever so a nuisance for this Shinso's time in the bath." She did Leysis's signature pose and kukuku'd.

That was the easy part. Kobato, as the last time I'd applied sunscreen on her, found it difficult to stay still, not when the lotion felt like I were scrubbing her back with ice cubes. Without missing a beat, our club pervert remarked how indecent this situation was, especially the frantic cries of my little sister. Things just went a little overboard when Yukimura offered to apply sunscreen on my back, and Rika capitalized on this picture in her messed up imagination.

"EXCALIBUR!"

The craziness of the club never ceased to amaze me.

"There, all done. Your turn next, Maria."

She nodded. "Okay, Onii-chan!"

As our little bubble of normalcy maintained its effectiveness against the tyrannous assault of Rika's perverted fantasies and Yozora's old-fashioned beachwear, Stella was in the process of applying sunscreen on Sena's back. My eyes lingered on her topless state, trying not to think of the incident at her house, of the incident this morning when I saw her sleeping form. They were memories I did not want lingering in the forefront of my mind, teasing me with alternate outcomes and tempting scenarios where I could get the chance to take one metaphorical step forward in the situations. I was a hormonal teen, straight and quite aware of girls, and while having such thoughts was considered healthy and a part of puberty, my manhood could betray me as often as my lingering eyes. Such an awkward situation was best to be avoided.

After applying the UV barriers on two girls plus one boy (I was thankful Rika had passed out after her "EXCALIBUR!" shout or I'd be facing more delusional byplay of her shounen-ai daydreams), I looked towards Yozora and offered the sunscreen bottle. "You need some, too?" I asked.

She peered down at her full body swimsuit. It wasn't SCUBA gear or anything; there was no excuse or reason to go around what she really wore, which was female swimwear that might've been popular about a century ago. She eventually shook her head, though her face portrayed a kind of disappointment with the way things had turned out. Maybe she was regretting wearing that getup? Whichever the case, the sunscreen was no longer needed.

The kids, now protected from getting sunburned, charged towards the sea like newborn turtles, carrying with them a beach ball and a swim tube. But as soon as they hit the water, Maria threw the ball at Kobato's head, which splashed into the water when it was hit. And then the chaotic water fight began.

"Come on, Yukimura. Let's swim."

"Understood, Aniki."

* * *

><p>Almost three hours had passed since we started playing on the beach, and I was getting tired. Maria and Kobato were still going strong and at least they converted to a more civilized form of playing than the roughhousing they'd done for the first forty-five minutes of stepping into the water. Eventually, Sena, Yozora, and Rika had joined in on the fun, but the latter two preferred to hang back on the shallow levels and watch the rest stroke to deeper levels.<p>

At one point, I had to warn Maria from venturing farther. The waves were getting stronger and she was unaccustomed to swimming without a swim tube to keep her afloat. I was afraid she'd be swept away by the tide, and it almost happened if not for Kobato's swift action. Her amazing swimming abilities proved to have prevented a disaster, but Maria, the innocent yet ignorant little ten-year-old that she was, took no notice of this. She just thought Kobato came to ruin her fun. I was unsure if Kobato had enough compassion to reiterate her actions if ever Maria decided to wander dangerously again.

Right now, I swam to the shore and slumped my tired body on the blanket and under the shade. I opened up the cooler, took out a can of Pocari Sweat, opened it, and drank about half.

"Why won't you join in?" I asked the person sitting next to me. She'd been there since I took off with Yukimura, keeping a close eye on her charge yet not indulging in the fun as she had advised me hours ago.

Stella leveled me with her stoic gaze—looking away from Sena for the first time—and replied, "I prefer staying here. Do not worry yourself over me, Kodaka-sama."

"Maybe, but you've gone through the trouble of changing into a swimsuit." I took a sip from my drink. "Why not let loose and have fun—just this once?"

She shook her head. "Like I said, I am fine."

"It's not like Sena will drown, unless she swims to deeper depths."

A pause in our conversation. Then she asked me, "Were you the one who taught Sena-sama how to swim?"

"Yeah. What, didn't she tell you it was me?"

"When I had asked why she'd go to the pool if she didn't know how to swim, she told me someone offered to teach her."

I didn't offer; she demanded me that I teach her. "I see," was all I offered in return.

"If I had known you were the teacher, I would've come along."

"You don't trust me with Sena that much?" I'd be lying if I said that didn't hurt me.

"You misunderstand, Kodaka-sama. I wish to be present for another reason entirely."

"Which is . . .?"

"Classified information." She put her forefinger on her lips, the universal gesture for silence.

"You were waiting for a chance to say that, weren't you?" I asked, a slight sense of déjà vu coming upon me.

"No comment." She returned her gaze to the blonde teen trying to coerce Kobato into something. "She really has looked happier than before she met you, Kodaka-sama."

"I think that's more because of my little sister's presence than mine actually."

"Please do not sell yourself short, Kodaka-sama. And do not presume that I am in the wrong. Sena-sama really _has_ been happier since meeting you."

I couldn't think of a response, so silence became my default answer.

"You must have known about her reputation in her class, correct?"

That she was hated by all the girls and worshipped by all the boys? Yes, I definitely knew. But my reply was, "Kind of."

"To be truthful, this is the first time she has acted on a male with respect other than her father."

"But what about Hideki-san? She was acting quite nicely to him."

"Because I told her to," she retorted. Her head lowered a little and there was a slight upturn of her smiles, yet I couldn't completely classify that as either a smile or her suppressing a bigger smile. "She would be punished otherwise."

"Punished?"

"Why, yes, Kodaka-sama. Punished. I do not like it when someone insults my friend, even if it's Sena-sama."

"Does the chairman even know about this?"

She nodded. "He believes it was a proper punishment."

"What exactly did Sena do to have Pegasus-san give you the okay?"

"Sena-sama was only ten at the time. She was impulsive and quite vocal of things. It got out of hand when Hideki decided to come over and visit me. Sena-sama said some offending things, so I readied my hand and slapped her butt until she apologized."

"I—I see."

"She gave up after the twentieth strike."

Please, say no more about it, Stella. Please.

"Stella! W-what are you telling Kodaka?!"

I could almost feel the stomps of Sena's feet as she came to us, her face as red as Stella's bikini.

"Your childhood," the butler replied.

"Not the kind of childhood I want you talking about as if it was no big secret."

"Kodaka-sama was very curious about things you did when you were a child. He literally forced me to tell him."

"Hey, hey! I didn't force you to anything."

"Kodaka, how could you?"

"I didn't do anything! I'm being falsely accused here."

"Stella wouldn't lie about this, you know."

"Yes, I wouldn't lie about this, you know."

Great . . . this was just _great_. I would've palmed my face right then and there, but doing so would declare that Stella had won this battle. I didn't want to lie down on this kind of defeat, so I resisted whatever urge I had for facepalming and substituted it with a long sigh through gritted teeth. The look might've turned a little menacing—I _was_ a little pissed—but I made sure to turn away when I did that. Sena should avoid seeing my face when it was agitated. At least that was what my instincts were telling me.

"Are you ready to admit your guilt, Kodaka-sama?"

"Like hell I am." I then turned to Sena. "Look, I didn't force her to say those things. I just asked and she answered."

"Hmph! A likely story."

"I'm not forcing you to believe me—"

"What is there to believe?" She cut me off. "All I'm hearing is you trying to make excuses for something which you are at fault."

"I'm not—"

"Just because you want to know more about me doesn't mean you have the right to pry out everything about my private life. Seriously, show some restraint!"

"I'm telling you, I'm—"

"I don't want to hear any more excuses, Kodaka! Not one more."

I sighed again through gritted teeth, but I couldn't turn away. My anger rose the same time our voices escalated to shouting. I didn't need a wider range of vision to see that the other club members found our argument more interesting than their current actions in the water. I had closed my eyes during my sigh, so I had not seen the fearful look on Sena's face until I opened them again.

My anger remained, its visage primal and in need of an outlet, but as much anger I could muster, no matter how justified I'd be, I would not dare to raise a hand against a girl, especially Sena. It was less because she was the chairman's daughter and more because she was a girl and my mother told me to respect them. But my chivalry did not automatically mean I wouldn't speak my mind against a girl. If she were in the wrong or if she had offended enough for me to take action, then I would probably have little to zero hesitance to speak out.

So speak out I did, standing to my full height, idly noting Sena taking a step back. "You know what," I hissed, a result of having to resist growling out my words, "I don't care what you think. Just leave me alone already."

They were my parting words as I walked to the edge of the shore, intending on releasing some steam through the time-old activity anyone would do when in the beach. Maria and Kobato managed to make a nonverbal truce for the time being but even I was unsure how long that would last; it could be until we get back to the villa, or it could be five minutes from now.

"Kodaka," Sena said behind me, her voice low and soft, almost disembodied, "wait."

I neither looked back nor stopped my stride.

I got so preoccupied with my seething that I hadn't realized I brought along the half-empty bottle of Pocari Sweat until a mild wave slammed against my feet. Not wanting to bring it along, I dropped it where the wave would not reach and continued entering the water.

When by chance I looked back at the shore, Sena and Stella were gone. I didn't question it, didn't think much of it. They could do whatever the hell they want for all I care.

* * *

><p>The sun soon headed far west, dropping down into the horizon and leaving in its wake the dark canopy of summer stars. At this time, the Neighbors Club had returned to the villa and washed away the excess salt water and sand from their bodies in the shower.<p>

This was an hour after I came back to the villa and busied myself with washing up and preparing for tonight's dinner. Stella and I had thought ahead and brought with us some ingredients to cook. I had been leaning towards a delicious seafood dish I learned from the cooking channel last year, a particular dish I only cooked twice since I'd heard of it. I got everything I needed, yet with the addition of Stella's cooking supply, I was tempted to procure more extravagance on my chosen food.

Stella's encouragement sealed the deal, although I was still wary of her.

The rest of the Neighbors Club—those who already had their showers, anyway—wasted time away doing their own thing. There was Yozora with her book, Rika with her mecha-mag, and the two girls fast asleep on the couch. Yukimura was the one currently showering. And Sena . . .

Well, I hadn't seen her since we had that argument at the beach. I knew I should be a bit worried for her. Everybody else had already freshened up and out of their swimsuits. With night time close at hand, it wouldn't be good for Sena to go about there with just that two-piece swimsuit as her attire. It was while I was thinking about this that I had walked to the glass door that led to the house's backyard and then the stairway descending to the beach we had played in hours before.

Sena was outside, standing close to the stairway, forearms resting on the railing erected beyond the start of the stairs. Her eyes trailed the sea and her hair danced with the breeze. The setting sun basked this part of the world with a bright orange hue, even Sena's form, but it did not destroy her beauty. Still clad in her form-fitting two-piece, she exhibited a sense of sadness, like a lone woman thinking of the lack of people in her life. There was a prickling in my memory, a reminiscence that felt like déjà vu, but it was crushed by my mad assault of pulling it into the forefront. Its presence was faint, fragile, so I guess trying to put my attention to it proved too much pressure to bear. It would come back to me in time if it was important, but I was unsure if I wanted it to.

A small piece of it, however faint and hazy, latched onto my heart over its relatively short lifespan. Uneasiness and regret burst from it. I didn't like it.

Whatever my inner battles lead to, they did not have much hold over the events transpiring in the outside world, and it was not as if they could help me dissipate the tough situation Sena had put herself in. I was still mad at her, but not in the same intensity as before. It might be my kind nature or inability to stay mad at basically anybody, but something at least compelled me to go outside and talk to her. What to talk about, however, eluded me and so I hesitated. For all I knew, Sena wanted to be alone right now. There was no point going over there and talking to her, not when I still have dinner to think about.

Stella unexpectedly appeared on my right, again clad in her butler uniform, looking at me like how a yakuza interrogator would when contemplating the many ways she could bring pain without killing me.

Her sudden appearance, as well as her stare, made me want to scream and if not for her hand covering my mouth in time, I would've disturbed everyone in- and outside the house.

"Please calm yourself, Kodaka-sama. All is well."

"Except for my heart." It was beating like crazy. "Why sneak up on me like that?"

She tilted her head to the right. "Kodaka-sama, I've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

"You have?"

"Yes. I've called your name over ten times already." When I was about to apologize for ignoring her, she then added, "With my mind."

"Teh! That's as much as not calling my name at all!"

"You've always wondered if I have ESP, and from what I've read espers have the ability to not only read minds but also project their thoughts."

I couldn't think of a reply.

Stella thought that my silence was a gesture for her to elaborate. "My findings are currently inconclusive. I have tried to project my thoughts to Yukimura Kusunoki, but there were no signs of the message being received."

"You two must've been staring at each other for over ten minutes."

"How clever of you, Kodaka-sama! You wouldn't happen to be the real esper, would you?"

"No, that was just intuition." And a bit of common sense. They did, after all, commenced a long staredown at our meetup at the train station before.

Stella nodded in resigned agreement before moving her eyes to the lone figure of her charge staring out into the sea like a mermaid missing her home. "A mere change of discussion: will I be required to persuade you to approach Sena-sama?"

"Approach her for what reason?"

"Now you are just trying to be ignorant," Stella retorted, and this time I actually felt emotion in her voice. Dark, malevolent, and threatening (for me). I was as surprised at the emotion as I was that this was imbued in her sentence, when all of our previous conversations could be summed to a forum lurker trying to figure out if one of the user's post was sarcastic or serious.

It was a change in pace—or maybe even a breach in the character I pictured her in my head—that I just managed to utter a confused, "Eh?"

Unfortunately she took that as my continued retreat to the realm of ignorance. Her eyes narrowed, but they soon closed as her head bowed. I heard her sigh through her nose—yet another sign of emotion from the cold steward, frustration!

She looked to Sena again, her eyes expressing emotions where her voice lacked. "Do not take Sena-sama's words to heart. She was merely frustrated and confused. She . . . you could say, has a hard time showing her actual feelings when around you."

"Why would that be hard?"

"A maiden's heart is a curious thing. It acts and reacts on a whim, mostly without the maiden's knowledge."

I wisely did not say a thing. It seemed Stella was trying to convey something more than justifying Sena's previous actions towards me.

"It is also my fault that things have turned downhill. For that, I apologize, Kodaka-sama." She bowed till her torso was parallel to the ground. "Please make up with Sena-sama."

Instinctively, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up. "That's enough. You don't have to go that far." It made me uncomfortable to see a woman older than me bow before me. Memories of guys who thought I was extorting their cash bowed in a similar way and offered their wallets while staying that way.

"I've explained to her that I was the one at fault, thus instigating this." She stepped back once I let go of her shoulders. "But Sena-sama is not used to apologizing to anyone other than her father."

That was not difficult for my mind to picture, but my lips remained sealed.

"It is made more difficult because it is you she has to apologize to."

"Well I'm sorry for not being approachable," I grumbled.

"Do not misunderstand. She finds it difficult to talk to you for a different reason."

"Which is . . .?"

She shook her head, and with narrowed eyes, said, "Please do not play dumb. You already know why."

When I was about to retort, she cut me off.

"Talk to Sena-sama as soon as you can. I do not wish to see her this sad." She bowed to me, this one more casual. "I shall monitor the food while you straighten things out."

"Huh? Hey, wait! Stella!" My calls were wasted as she turned a deaf ear to me, already midway to the kitchen where the food was just in need of the occasional stirring and last minute additions of seasoning.

I was quite stuck in this predicament. The alternative option, in which I ignore Stella's plea and do something else until dinner was ready, had crossed my mind. I didn't consider it in length because even thinking about doing it was too cruel.

I sighed, trepidation casting more doubt my way as I looked back at Sena. She hadn't moved at all. Having Sena staying still for a long period of time was almost unheard of. Even while she's playing her games in the clubroom, there's that presence around her that seems to shout out animated and free. She was free-spirit to a certain degree and nothing ever pulled her back from what saying her mind, although this could cause trouble with the wrong people as evident in what happened with those boys in the pool.

Now though . . . Now she was just still. Like a statue.

Like a corpse.

Morbidity was not my usual train of thought, but it was strangely one of the first similes that come to mind regardless.

Okay, so maybe heading over there and settle this matter was a bright course of action—I could only imagine the tense atmosphere between us once we all sat around the dinner table later, maybe even in the days to come—but what to say still eluded me. What to say? What to do? I was not used to this and afraid I might just make things worse.

_How can you make it worse?_ I asked myself as my hand hovered next to the sliding door bridging this house to the beach. _How exactly can you do worse for apologizing?_

Apologize? Why would I apologize? Sena brought this to herself, she was at fault. Why should I be sorry too?

I shook my head and braced myself for what was to come. My heart, it seemed, was already set when my mind was not. It urged me to slide open the door, despite my hesitation, my reservations. The door opened and my senses was assaulted with the feel of a summer dusk.

There was the salty breeze coming from the sea and the combined scent of an assortment of flowers spread about in the yard, their actual colors, stained with the red and yellow highlights of the setting sun, were sadly indistinguishable to my eyes. The grass was short and soft. My hunch had Pegasus hiring a bi-weekly gardener to keep the place treated and beautiful. Maybe he hired a whole group after Sena informed him we'd be using it. Either way, it didn't really concern me, yet my mind distracted itself with irrelevant things just so it wouldn't have to think about facing a certain someone, someone I was approaching foot by foot.

The grass was soft and the soil was even, but if I had any hope of getting close enough to her undetected . . . close enough to convince myself that there was no turning back if she did sense me . . . well, my ninja ancestors had to turn on their graves yet again.

I didn't know what set me off—the subtle crunch of grass, the vibrations from my footsteps, the slaps coming from my sandals as they hit my heels for every step, my overall presence that alarmed her she was being watched and approached—but Sena looked behind her like a woman expecting a scary rapist about to pounce.

"Kodaka," she murmured, her voice one of wonder, bewilderment, and worry. Before I could say a word, she turbed back to the view of the sea, neared the stairs leading ti the beach, and sat down on the topmost step.

Well, I had worse piss offs than this, but it still hurt. I began to have second thoughts, but I already crossed the threshold of not turning back. This situation was reminding me more and more of that night at the Kashiwazaki abode, after I saw Sena naked and before we had that heart-to-heart talk.

Stella's words loomed in my mind. Was she telling the truth about Sena regretting what she said? Or was this another one of that steward's merciless games? Maybe. She must've been willing to bow deeply for a prank, though.

Putting caution out of my actions, I approached Sena again.

Nonchalant.

Nerves of steel.

Skin without sweat.

I failed all three objectives, but the saving grace was that I managed to sit down next to her. And there was a bonus: she didn't talk my ear off with complaints or whatnot. She just stayed silent, hunched over in her little corner of the narrow stairs.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to act tough but her trembling hands proved otherwise. A part of me wanted to console this scared, worried girl but she was in no need of it. Not right now, not until she managed to convey what she wished to convey.

Still, she asked a question, and of all the responses I could come up with, I decided on the most simplest. "To talk to you."

Like how we did that night. Like how we did in the days since. Like how we used to do. I might've tried to act like I didn't care, but I was a horrible liar even to myself. I couldn't help what I really feel.

Surprised at my response and its simplicity, she murmured, "Wh-wh-what the heck is that suppose to mean? Be more specific, baka."

"I don't know how you can be more specific than that."

"Of course you can! You just don't want to. I can tell when you're playing with me."

Oh? And you were often dense about Yozora's game with you? "Aw shoot. My plan was foiled before it got off the ground."

We acted nonchalant and the quips seemed to have cut off the tension and break the ice. Her laughter, full of mirth, made me happy somehow.

"I-I-It's not as if I'm laughing because you're funny." She crossed her arms, looked away. Because of the sunset, it was hard to tell if the blush I had glimpsed on her cheeks was due to the light or her blood. "I'm only laughing because I want to, got that?"

"Yeah, whatever you say, Sena."

". . . Kodaka?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

I smiled. "Apology accepted."

All was well again.

* * *

><p><em>She didn't know when it started, but maybe it didn't matter much. This feeling had been there for a long time. Whether it was planted when she first joined the club or when she began to know a little more about him as days and club meetings passed over the change of a season. At first, she was unsure of these sporadic reactions whenever he was near. She discarded the notions of it being love right from the start, not because she was afraid—oh who was she kidding? She had been downright terrified, going as far as to ignore anything related to love and the things it sparked inside her, from the increasing beat of her heart to the frequent blushes on her face whenever a topic they talked about contained him a compliment for her, a compliment that came out so naturally that he wouldn't even realize it was what it was. He probably had no direct control over what he says, but she was content. A praising or a scolding, she didn't mind which, his opinion still mattered to her.<em>

_But her latest blunder might've pushed him away for good. Why did she have to go around and say that, especially after having Stella spell it out to her that she was not just attracted but actually falling for that pudding head? It was not as if her reaction was completely out of line, she thought at first, and when Stella revealed that she told him those embarrassing things all on her own, without being prompted, the mor of her desire to bury a hole and hide in it grew exponentially. She literally blew up in front of his face, her tongue lashing like a whip, merciless, unthinking._

_She sighed, taking into her mouth the faint taste and scent of the salty sea breeze. The sea was beautiful this sunset. Whenever she was down, she would go to the highest westward window and gaze at the setting sun. Call her romantic, she liked it that way. She was a girl and romance stories made her giddy, although she found romancing girls with her as the boy looked more appealing to read about. She still didn't understand why, but she was not really complaining. There was something symbolic about the setting sun, something about it putting her more at ease than anything she could think of that could whisk her away from her sadness, even if only for a little while, and she wasn't complaining about this either._

_Dusk had always cheered her up. When Mom couldn't make for her fifth birthday. When she fell from the second floor and inadvertently put Stella in the hospital. When the girls in middle school would talk behind her back, expecting and believing it wouldn't reach her ears (and by then she had grown used to whispered gossips centered on her). The presence of dusk was eternal to her. If no one else, it would be there for her everyday. Not a day would pass without it there for her to see and appreciate. Loyal. Eternal. Beautiful._

_Yet . . ._

_When she looked at the sun this time, there was no contentment, no joy. All she felt was regret. Why? Why was the sun betraying her now when she was at her lowest point?_

_It was so unfair. She felt like crying but she held it in. What was the use of crying anyway?_

_Her ears heard the soft taps of footsteps coming from behind her. She dared to hope that it was Kodaka, and though she turned to look at the newcomer with readiness to be disappointed at her hopeful presumption, she was surprised that her hope was right._

_Kodaka. It was Kodaka!_

_She almost jumped for joy, but there was still that slight enmity between them which was born from an argument which was born from a misunderstanding. Her joy was short-lived, and it was almost heart-shattering to even face it, to face him. She looked away, added the distance between them, and sat down unceremoniously on the top step of the stairs leading to the shore. There was no comfort to dissolve her sadness; the object of it was standing behind her and her object for anti-depression purposes was filling her with regret instead._

_It was not a good day._

_So she was taken by surprise when Kodaka sat beside her. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't have bothered and walked back to the summerhouse. She was acting snobbish even though she was thinking of apologizing. Her emotions were against her, in more ways than one. She was unsure what to say, what to ask. What was she to do?_

_Gathering her courage, she finally asked, "What do you want?"_

_It was quite confrontational and she winced at her choice of words. It was here she expected him to spit out her indignant tone right in front of her face, but she did no such thing. He still wanted to talk to her, wanted to make things right but only if she were to do it too, and she was trying. She was trying . . . yet why couldn't she be more honest with herself, with him? Why must she deny what she felt, what she wanted, what she enjoyed, in words equipped with fangs and poison?_

_She later realized that she had always been this way, even before Kodaka. She had always been biting, always disregarding the feelings of others and making herself more superior (even though it was quite true). So why had Kodaka put up with her this whole time when the rest had already deemed her too much for them to put up with (she had covered this often by saying they were jealous of her)? Why go through all that trouble?_

_When he made her laugh, she began to understand. It was because he had faith that she might change for the better. Because he was really kind._

_Because he was unlike other guys._

_She looked away from him, trying and failing to conceal the blush from blooming on her cheeks. Well, if all else failed she could just blame it on the sunset playing games with his eyes. Her eyes glimpsed the sun and there again was that feeling of regret, small and weak but still present, like cancer cells hibernating for a second coming._

_She mustered her courage again. It was now or never; she doubted she'd get another chance to be alone with him and say these words boiling and building at the tip of her tongue, demanding to be released, pride be damned._

_Her lips trembled, as did her hands. Her nerves were getting agitated, wild and spasmic. She soldiered on and called out to him, "Kodaka?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"I'm sorry." As the words left her lips, some unseen burden was pushed off her shoulders. She felt lighter and more content than before._

_"Apology accepted."_

_Now she smiled but was too embarrassed to let him see it. Maybe she didn't need to. She skidded closer to him without her knowing and that could be enough of an indicator that whatever wall she had made him build to keep her away had tumbled down like the Berlin Wall faster than it took them to offer and receive the apology._

_She looked back to the sun, its arc barely seen above the horizon as night began to rule the sky. It was just a glance, just a flicker from the giant star before it was engulfed by the world's curvature, but a single glance was enough for her. There was no regret. Just joy and contentment._

_All was well._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

I know that I most likely won't be updating again until December, so I decided to end this chapter on a lighter, happier note. Plus, I wanted to display some development on Sena's character. It might've gone too fast, but not so much for me, because there is a difference between thinking something and doing it. Realizing is both the easiest and hardest part; Sena will have a bigger challenge ahead of her if she wishes to change her ways overnight, though from what I could picture about her personality, she'd only be willing to change a little, if only for her own good. Anything else is up for debate, depending on her mood and her personality's flexibility.

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and are patient for the time I'll be writing and posting chapters faster come Christmas.


	9. A Stolen Kiss

Date written: 19/09/12 – 26/09/12

Date rewritten: 19/12/12 – 07/01/13

Posted on FanFiction: 08/01/13

A/N: Excuse me while I pause my Ragnarok Online II game to post this chapter…

Okay, then, I know this one's a long time coming but I didn't want to release until I was sure of the path I wanted to take. This chapter requires a bit of foreknowing, especially with how I structure future chapters the way I do. The end result is not as grandiose as I had first imagined this part of the story to be, but I'm, all in all, content with it. It cut off probably forty to fifty thousand words worth of uncontrollable drama. I was not ready for such an endeavor, and it got too complicated right from the start, so it had to be scrapped and the chapter rewritten to accommodate a more humble scene to press the story forward—and away from that particular road.

The chapter name, however, remains since that's basically the theme for this one. Have fun reading as I had fun writing it. Stay awesome, people, and I'll see ya when I see ya.

Now then, back to RO2.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 9 ––<strong>

**A Stolen Kiss**

"Enemy to the right," Yozora warned, already notching an arrow.

"Wait," Sena interrupted, "it's heavily armored. You'll barely put a dent on that thing with iron arrows."

"Good call." I took out my battleaxe as I moved in front of Yozora like I was her bodyguard. Apart from Maria, she was the weakest out of the group. In terms of health anyway. "I'll lead him to those boulders. Ready your Ice Magic, Yukimura."

"Understood, Aniki." Behind his hood, the apprentice mage willed his hands to be engulfed in coldness that could challenge the blizzards Skyrim had had. "Ready."

"It's fast approaching," Yozora informed before she clicked her tongue. "And it brought friends. I count three more."

I clicked my own tongue. "Abort. Yukimura, step back. They're too many for you to handle."

Sena smiled as she assessed our current predicament. Her warhammer was hefted over her shoulder when she lowered it for her attack position. "How about a joint attack, Kodaka? Sharp and blunt forces."

"But that's still four against two," I replied before an idea came to mind. "Kobato, sneak close and distract the two soldiers at the back."

"Kukuku. I am a vampire lord that begets terror into the night."

Uh, I didn't think 'beget' was the right word she should've used.

"All shall fall before me. Every last one of these undead minions must perish!"

"What are you talking, poopy vampire? You haven't rolled the dices yet?"

"It's die, Maria," I informed, couldn't help myself, although a part of me wondered why I'd correct Maria and not Kobato. "The plural form of dice is die."

"Why die? That sounds stupid. Dices makes more sense."

"I guess." I said that but I didn't really mean it. "But it's officially die, so we can't do anything about it."

She pouted, but conceded my point.

"Kodaka! The enemy, the enemy!"

"Ah crap!"

It was too late. Sena attacked before I could join her and she was quickly incapacitated from receiving a backstab . . . from Kobato. It was not as if this was unexpected; the two blondes didn't bother investing points into their Luck attribute. Being the veteran that I was, I knew Luck also played a crucial part in the many functions of the game. I opted for a balance between Strength, Vitality, and Luck, as was my old playing style when my childhood friend and I played this game.

But still, how unlucky could both be for this to happen?

Sena giggled, despite the eight-inch blade sticking out of her back. "Kobato-chan stabbed me with her love." Delusional as always so I guess she was fine.

Kobato, however, was torn between glad and apologetic. This was a game, after all, so anything went but at least she still felt some level of remorse from what had occurred. I was thankful for that; the Neighbors Club didn't need another Yozora.

"Thou hast entered my path of pursuit. Thy am not at fault for this travesty." It seemed Kobato redirected that guilt to Sena herself, washing her hands off the matter, not that Sena would mind anyway. "Very well then. Tis time to resume the task given by my other half. Attack—"

"Stun skill, successful," Stella interjected. "Kobato-sama, Assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, misses one turn."

"Ah? B-But I'm currently invisible!"

"Sneak skill is still below 60 and you've backstabbed your ally. Penalty is complete detection for the enemy."

"Uuuh . . ." Still in doubt, Kobato grabbed the rulebook and perused its pages. When she found it, she read it, even rereading it twice, before slumping in defeat. "How humiliating."

"Nyahahahah! Serves you right, poopy vampire. Because I'm a priestess of a holy order, these poopy uglies cannot touch me."

"Actually," Stella said, "you are a priestess of a Daedric prince, not of a Divine."

"Still a priestess," the child retorted stubbornly. "A priestess of de—day—dead—uh, something prince. I'm completely free from harm!"

I shook my head at Stella and we both agreed that it was a lost cause. Still, I never thought the stoic steward would show mercy for the kid; it'd take just one critical attack to incapacitate her after all, because being a priestess of either Divine or Daedric, it mattered little for the undead. There is, of course, a heightened damage resistance for patrons of the Divines Mara and Alduin, but any priestess have no such absolute defense in this game. Maria misunderstood the damage resistance, Kobato hadn't read that part of the gamebook yet, and everybody else didn't bother correcting the nun's mistake.

The game continued, now with Rika taking the helm and dashing forth into the fray alone, but that was just a distraction. Rika invested almost all her skill points to Agility, thus increasing her base speed and dodge chances. She was just the distraction for Yozora to take a flanking position above the boulders unnoticed. It was good tactics for these two archers—one was the diversion, the other the shooter—but Yozora merely had iron arrows, the lowest quality projectiles in the game, in her quiver. She'd need two quivers worth to take every last one of the zombies, and they couldn't possibly rely on Rika's high Agility to protect her from all attacks. The roll of the die still decided their chances. Rolling and bouncing, where would it land is anyone's guess.

I underestimated their ingenuity.

Yozora readied her bow, aiming carefully at the zombie with the greatsword, and with the die giving her the okay, she released her arrow. And it exploded on impact.

Rika, swift and agile Rika, got away from the blast radius as told by the die. Just one arrow had been enough to incur impressive damage against the zombie, and the explosion's area of effect ensured that its buddies were partially affected as well.

But how? How? I looked at Yozora, and she looked back at me, adorning a smug smile. I didn't know how or when, but she had somehow gotten ahold of Explosion Arrows, one of the rarest arrows to be found in Dovahkiin Labyrinth. It could not be bought, just found, and though I could conclude her possession of one to a lucky random loot, she was still looking smug and pulled out another Explosion Arrow. Actually, every arrow in her quiver was an Explosion Arrow.

"Unbelievable . . ." She was undoubtedly lucky. The only other person who was able to collect a quiver full was my childhood friend from ten years ago.

The second arrow was nocked and released, travelling in ungodly speed and power that it wouldn't be a stretch to compare it to a mini-sized nuclear warhead. It exploded right in the middle of the zombies zone and when the dust settled, only one was left, staggering and low on health.

Stella, the Labyrinth Master, observed the decimation of her forces without changing the expression on her face. It was the most formidable poker face. Even if you were to strip her naked, whip her back, and shave her head, she'd still have the power and will to go through it all like an emotionless mannequin. Some, if not most, would think of that as a scary trait to have, and I happened to be one of them. Just one of the many reasons why she was in the list of my People I Can't Put Up With.

By that point, after Yozora's decisive win, we were to venture further into the labyrinth and stumbled upon the ancient tomb of one of the Dragon Priests. Behind its sarcophogus was the ebony stone monolith littered with meaningful scratches and cracks. They were not done by either age or damage. They were done by dragons, their own written language etched into stone.

It was the mission given to us and why we were exploring this dangerous place in our first adventure in Skyrim. Dragon Priests were a new addition after Dovahkiin Labyrinth underwent a bit of an overhaul, and so none of us were prepared with what we were facing.

"FUS RO DAH!"

Its angry shout, guttural and dead and soul-shattering, pushed us all away, isolating each one of us for the next horde of undead that had awoken from their coffins. Even with Yozora's Explosion Arrows, which she couldn't use at close range unless she wanted to take damage from her own attack too, were inadequate to fully stop this force. Maria was the first to go, then Kobato. Yukimura, having used most of his points for Destruction magic, did not have enough proper preparations to enact self-healing, which was a Restoration discipline, and thus was the next to fall.

It was just Rika, Yozora, and I but even then, we were overwhelmed. I at least went out on a reckless blaze of glory: I tried attacking the Dragon Priest.

Stella's voice had cut in when I voiced my attack and succeeded in the dice roll: "Damage resisted. Counterattack: Yor Toor Shul."

A definite blaze of glory, because I died from the flames summoned out of the undead priest's mouth as if he were a dragon given human form. Maybe he was.

Game Over.

* * *

><p>"That was so cool!" Maria shouted as the rest of us grumbled in our utter defeat. "You totally barbecued Onii-chan, Stella-onee-san."<p>

"I thank you for your praise, Miss Maria."

Ugh. A DL veteran like me . . . beaten in the first explored dungeon . . . how, how—

"How humiliating," Yozora said, cradling her head, looking at the table where the Dovahkiin Labyrinth game and its many accessories were sprawled out. "An utter defeat."

"Tell me about it," I agreed and gazed idly at the general map of Skyrim. It had been ten years, but the general layout remained the same. Yet it had turned so different from what I was used to. Some weak weapons were buffed, some strong weapons were nerfed, and new effects and skills were introduced. The whole game had gotten more complicated and I had charged into it thinking it'd still be the same game. It was, but it also wasn't. I felt like a driver who had grown used to automatic and was now forced to drive a manual. "A lot has really changed."

"At least you got to there," Sena remarked, crossing her arms—and which I took great pains to not automatically center my gaze on her chest. "I was out of commission halfway."

"Couldn't you just say you were killed?"

"I was not killed!" she said before eyeing my little sister without alerting her. "It's not even a proper kill, right?"

"Well, yeah, it wasn't a proper kill, but you still died. I told you the Luck aspect is important."

She blushed prettily, looked away, played with a lock of her hair. And with a voice brimming with restrained shame, she said, "Yeah, I guess."

"Don't worry. This always happens for first timers."

"Oh?" Her eyes were directed at me, and I made sure to not squirm under that level of scrutiny. "So then the same happened to you when you first played?"

It was an obvious question to ask, but I had to admit I did not see it coming, especially from her; it sounded more out of Yozora's alley.

I nodded at her question. What was there to hide? "My old friend and I tried the 1-on-1 battle feature first before doing any quests and adventures." I smiled at the memory. "Things didn't go as planned, that's for sure."

"You were utterly decimated," Yozora said, her lips adorning a smile that was like mine. It wasn't the familiarity of the smile that widened my eyes, but the comment she made.

"How did you know I was decimated?" Not only that, those were the same words my childhood friend had said when his avatar had given the critical attack that ended our battle.

_**"You got decimated! Hah!"**_

Those were his words, at a time when even online gamers had not yet coined phrases such as "You just got pwned!"

"Eh?" Yozora's voice turned squeaky, and I would've found it funny if not for a more urgent thing that needed my attention.

Surely it was impossible for Yozora to know what happened in my childhood ten years ago. It was just coincidence that she used the word decimated or that she knew of my defeat rather than asking of it or that she smiled fondly of a memory she shouldn't have. What other explanation was there?

"It was an educated guess," she said. "You made it too obvious."

"Have I?" I tried reviewing what I said about my first DL play, but nothing clicked about my supposedly obvious defeat. I let it go this time. Yozora looked like she wanted nothing more to do with this topic.

"Well, are you guys game for another round?" I asked and was rewarded with a positive response from everyone.

I never thought Dovahkiin Labyrinth would get this much response from the rest of the club. With the advancement of video games and a few mimicking the mechanics surrounding DL, I had thought the demand for it would decline. I was glad I was wrong. It was either that or we were a special case, a band of unsocial people who thought a little differently from the riajuu, even though we were trying our best to become them and make friends. A sad and scary thought, yes, but there must be a sliver of truth in it, no matter how small.

I kept this thought in mind as we ventured again into another adventure, this time testing ourselves with a dragon attacking the village of Whiterun. It finally slipped my mind once we achieved victory, distributed the loot and skill points, and decided to take on another adventure before turning in for today.

There was just too much joy in these events to retain gloomy thoughts. What was so bad about that?

* * *

><p>The next day was another bubbling morning of activity as the Neighbors Club continued with the fun under the sun. Rika and Yozora forewent swimming in the beach again, content in lying back in the summerhouse, nestled in their reading materials. I didn't bother persuading them because I could see that they were not about to budge from their happy place. Rika might've been easy to convince, but the conditions she'd request to have her join us was too predictable to sacrifice more than three seconds of pondering: She would undoubtedly ask for something sexual in nature from me.<p>

After having my fun in the water, I showered and dressed up for a little outing. Last night's dinner had been a sort of splurge for our food, and now we didn't have enough ingredients to compensate more than a simple meal. I wasn't content with mundane dishes for this summer trip, so I asked Stella for directions to the nearest market and she happily obliged, though she didn't really look happy but stoic.

I pedaled my way to the market, not minding the slightly uneasy terrain of the dirt road. This bicycle had seen better days, already accumulating a level of rust in its chains but not like a dab of oil wouldn't help. The chains still squeak like choking chipmunks occasionally, but at least they didn't hinder my pedaling any longer.

The market was a nice change of pace for me. In the summerhouse, we were a close-knit bunch of misfits, calling each other with first names yet still retaining a well hidden veil of hesitation and gloom. The atmosphere of the vendors and buyers was more happy-go-lucky. Trades were in effect, haggles were a dime a dozen, shouts and praises of wares were loud and aplenty. The very mood was engaging, if a little chaotic, but that was what I liked about it. It breathed life, the cacophony of voices swallowing my hearing as if they were being spoken right next to my ear.

Escaping the noise was a fruitless effort, so I did nothing to that. I was used to it, actually. This place reminded me of the wet market back in the Kyushu region. The seafood here was much fresher than in the supermarket in Tohya. Cheaper too, and _much_ cheaper if you knew how to haggle.

I made sure to wear a straw hat to keep my hair slightly covered. The blond tresses mixing with the black and brown could still be seen, but only if you were really looking. As it was now, I looked like any other generic person in the herd of people searching for bargains and good buys.

Despite already having a set mental list, I took the time to look around the market. Fish, a wide variety of them, were on sale and though I should be surprised at their prices, I really wasn't. This market was situated close to the sea where I knew fishermen go to capture the latest hauls, so this place was more akin to a marina than a market. Granted, there were still vendors selling fruits, vegetables, but their stalls stood separate from the seafood and meat. Most of the place sold fish anyway.

I went from stall to stall, talking to the vendors and assessing my chances of haggling. The prices were low as it was, and though I'd feel a little bad wiping off a few hundred yen from the final price, it was the principle of the matter here. It was . . . tradition, I guess. My father, whenever he used his vacation days and took us on summer family trips, would take me to the market and show me the ropes of haggling, although maybe he brought me for some father-son bonding after this errand rather than to teach me his ways of obtaining bargains. It was just something that rubbed off on me along the way, and though I never inherited Dad's ways of making friends, I got the taste of his haggling right from the start. I blame this on genetics. I really do.

An hour later, I got what I came for and was ready to head back. The hands on my watch gestured that it was a quarter past eleven in the morning. I had to double back if I wanted to prepare lunch in time. I got on the bike and made one final check on the front basket. An accident on the way back was not on my agenda.

I was at the end of the market, just needing a sharp right turn to start my return journey through the long, lone dirt road, when a gust of wind whipped in front of me, grabbing my hat and tumbling it down to my nape. If not for the long jaw strap now wrapped around my neck, I might've lost the hat completely.

But my hair was bare for all to see. I didn't think of getting any shouted surprise from the vendors, because delinquent-looking or not, a customer is a customer. And I was already leaving, so there was no real need to fret, if at all. I knew that, I understood that, which was why I didn't replace the hat onto my head.

I regretted it soon after.

"Kodaka?"

A voice from the crowd, piercing and distinct, despite the cacophony running alongside it. I knew that voice, could never forget it, not after the last time I had heard it.

A normal response would've been to stop, turn around, and address the one who said my name. I did stop, but only for a moment. When realization finally set in, I pushed my feet on the pedal, never looking back.

"Wait! Kodaka, wait!"

Her voice was getting closer, but I soon picked up speed and turned right. A horrible thought entered me then—that this was some cruel joke created by fate and there was no escaping it. My bike would slide and I would tumble to the ground, giving the person a chance to get to me before I could stand up and resume my getaway.

I took the sharp right, almost stumbled when the swift turn shook the basket full of fish and produce, and pedaled as fast as my legs could go. Not once ever looking back. But that person's voice kept shouting, shouting for me to stop, to wait, to not go.

I ignored it all. It was cowardly, I knew, but I didn't care even if I was deemed as such. I just wanted to get as far away from there as possible.

And in truth, I already admitted to myself that I was a coward.

* * *

><p>"What the hell was that for?" I murmured to no one in particular. After pedaling for quite a while, I believed I was safe for the time being. 'Safe' felt more like a stagnation of bad impressions and with how much I displayed my displeasure of even talking with that person just then . . . well, I wanted to beat myself up for it. Things would've gone much better if not for my immediate flight response, but I actually couldn't help that. After what I did, keeping my distance seemed the best solution. Not for me, but for her. Yet I couldn't help sardonically telling to myself that history <em>does<em> repeat itself. How comforting.

"You didn't have to make a scene, though. Why did you panic?"

I asked a question I already knew the answer to, but that alone made me hate myself more. Would this happen every time we meet by coincidence?

I lay on the soft grass, uncaring of the tiny pinpricks on my back, the dirt that would cling to my sweat-covered shirt (today was hot and I'd been pedaling as if my life depended on it), and the time slowly passing me by. The latter was of a lesser priority, especially after my speedy cycling through the countryside. I did more than double back; in that light, I had plenty of time to—

What? Plenty of time to do _what_ exactly? Here I was, sulking and brooding over the past, which felt like a cancer growing in secret through all these years. It was way past the time to try and let go, but these words were like coming from a megaphone compared to my actions which were like whispers. Letting go was hard, forgetting it was even harder.

Forgetting her was—

"Kodaka."

That voice! I sat up quickly, panic beginning to set into my nerves, and looked over my shoulder. The elevated dirt road, formed somehow to resemble a continuous hill passing through miles of potential farm fields, was where I had parked my bike. Standing next to it, supporting a second bike, was someone I had been trying to flee from since she called my name the first time.

It was my old middle school classmate, Jun.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to make her stop forcing a happy front for my sake. She was kind—always had been, always would be, I guess—but her kindness was undesirable to me. Not at the way things had spiraled down for us and all the pain brought from them. Things I had inadvertently started, like kick-starting a devastating avalanche.

"I almost thought it wasn't you," she said, parking her bike and descending the slope to my level. She didn't sit next to me, didn't come closer than three feet from me. It was just as well; I myself would've scooted away otherwise.

"It's been a while, huh?" she asked, and I could only nod. My throat felt dry, and not because of the heat. "How . . ." Her breath hitched. "How are you?"

". . . Well." I tried to think of something, anything, to excuse myself away, but I doubt she would believe it. Jun always seemed to know when I was lying. "Just well."

"I see."

We went into silence after that. For the longest time that I have known her, Jun and I never kept silence between ourselves for as long as this. At least not silence this awkward. It alone reinforced how much our relationship had strained since we last spoke. There was no heated voice choking and pausing in between sobs and croaks, tears cascading their beautiful face. In the years after that, I guess Jun must've tried her best to move on while I stayed where I was, stagnant and afraid. But was it really the case? How did I know Jun moved on from the greatest blunder I had ever done?

Jun chuckled softly, probably never intending to let me hear that. When she noticed I did, she said, "I never thought it would be this awkward."

"Yeah. Awkward." Regret. Self-loathing. It was not _just_ awkward. I wanted to apologize with all my heart, but the words wouldn't come, didn't wish to experience the sweet release my mind yearned for. "Did you need something?"

"I thought," she said, pausing as she took a deep breath, readying herself for something that required every bit of her courage and determination. I knew what it was she wished to talk about; I hardened my heart. "I thought we should talk more openly about what happened back then."

"What's there to talk about?" I questioned, making sure not to sound harsh or condescending. If anything, my self-loathing began its goal of bursting through the roof.

"I confessed." She took pause again, another deep breath. "And you didn't give me an answer."

The relationship Jun and I had was complicated. I know that that line had been used hundreds of times by others with their own branch of romance and drama in their lives, but in truth that was pretty much the gist of what we were. She and I went to the same middle school together for two years before I had to move away again. While she was charismatic, I had been the wallflower-slash-pariah of the class and no matter how many times she tried to get me to socialize with people, it always ended in disaster.

But that all paled in comparison to what had been our final conversation. A simple talk on our way home: She confessed . . . and I ran away. I never spoke to Jun again afterwards.

It was the most cowardly thing I had ever done, more so because she was the one who had been by my side since my entering middle school. You could say we were joined at the hip, although our relationship started off rocky before it smoothed to the kind of platonic friendship between opposite sexes you would only dream about, never once thinking of Jun and romance going hand-in-hand.

And that was all it was, a dream. A stupid, idealistic dream. Because Jun actually sought more than friendship from me; I had seen the signs but I chose to ignore them in light of my selfish wish to realize that dream, maybe going so far as to delude myself, play ignorant of every sign, gesture, and murmurs she would often and innocently drop during our middle school life.

That was what led to where we were now. Jun, hurt from the experience. Me, still running away, still wishing that this conversation never occurred.

"I still haven't gotten an answer, by the way," Jun said out of the blue, releasing me from my self-loathing to look at her incredulously.

"Are you serious?" I asked, but did not wait for an affirmation. "I just up and left without saying a word to you!" My emotions rose—its origin and construct unknown, but it was poisonous and hot—and with it my voice, and inevitably Jun flinched, looked away. But I was too high-strung to care; I ventured forward like a berserker lusting for blood. "Never even told you that on the day tomorrow, I'd be on the road halfway across the country! How can you just sit there and still wait for my answer"—here I regained my self-control and finished the rest of my words with a voice doused with quiet resignation—"after what I did? How?"

Jun just looked at me, no smile, no frown, but a statue-like stare that would make you squirm if you looked at it for too long. She scooted closer to me and I had this urge to once more widen the gap between us, but I somehow knew that an action like that would merely delay the inevitable. If she wanted to sit closer to me, she _would_ sit closer to me. That was how stubborn Jun could be at times.

I guess that same stubbornness carried over to her waiting for my answer.

An answer, I realized, I didn't think I have. I hadn't thought of Jun for quite a while, much less the confession and the what-ifs that often entered my dreams weeks after I moved away from Jun's hometown. Without realizing it, I was keeping my gaze away from Jun, prompting her to get closer and reroute my attention back to her. Delicate fingers were touching my jaw, applying a gentle amount of force for the rerouting, and once again the two of us were eye-to-eye but in such close proximity that the gap between our faces were less than five inches. I could feel her breath exhaling from her mouth while finding myself captivated and yielding to the actions she took just then.

Seeing her this close now, I could clearly tell that she had grown much more beautiful. She wasn't wearing any makeup, since her being in the market was more of an errand than an outing, but that only accentuated more of her natural beauty. Compared to what I saw every day in the clubroom—with Yozora's cool, hard-to-approach aura and Sena's stunning, aristocratic presence—Jun paled in comparison, but that just made her more desirable in my honest opinion. Yozora and Sena were like they were standing on high pedestals, unreachable to most unless you're willing to dare climb up the smooth, slippery slope. Here was Jun sporting her own kind of beauty, yet more down-to-earth than those two girls could ever hope to achieve.

Or maybe that was just the riajuu in her radiating and affecting my senses. As I said before, Jun was a very social and generally well-liked person back when I was attending the same school as her. Even with me being a wallflower and avoided due to things beyond my control, she had been determined to get me out of the corner and into the circle of friends she had created as if it were no big deal. It never worked the same way she and I had hoped, but I was thankful for her efforts all the same.

"Kodaka," Jun said, and my chin was rekindled with the same blast of warm air coming out of her mouth. "I . . ." she paused, looking tongue-tied. "I know that I can't expect an answer from you immediately, but I also know that can't let this thing hang without proper closure. So please, Kodaka, if you can give me answer sometime soon."

"But, Jun, I—"

"And," she interjected, "to show you how serious I am."

She stopped there, no longer letting words be the sole mode of communication she'd use to get her point across. Before I realized what she intended, Jun—in a move that brought forth mixed feelings of shock, confusion, and most of all, desire—put her lips on mine.

I had wanted to say a lot of things to Jun, but I was held back by hesitation and my own guilt. Right then and there, I had wanted to accept Jun's confession, but what gave me hesitation was something I couldn't fathom, something I couldn't put my finger on. It made the kiss feel awkward, even amongst the sensory overload my lips were feeling from the lips of a beautiful woman.

I truly wanted to say a lot more things to Jun.

However, right now, the two of us alone, with our lips sealed and together, guilt was pushed to the backseat as I wallowed in the conundrums my mind and heart were fighting over.

I wanted to respond. I wanted to push her away.

I wanted to tell her that I love her. I wanted to say that my love for her was only between friends.

I wanted to put the past behind us and start anew with these feelings in our hearts. I wanted to tell her that there was no hope of us becoming a couple.

My wants were contradictory; I couldn't help that.

But none addressed my needs, and with my mind preoccupied with wanting both right and wrong choices, it disregarded any decision made by logic and let my bodily instincts instead do the answering.

I ended up kissing her back.

And I hated myself for that.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

Sena just got NTR'd!

Um, _**NO**_**.**

It's just the usual romance drama complicating the plot. I never thought I'd implement something like that, but what good is a romance story without _conflict_ to push the fates of the two protagonists together? Expect more to come.

Meanwhile, in Asgard, a Level 22 Swordsman/Alchemist within the world of Einherjar awaits the end of Lagnarok so that the journey through this beautiful world continues…

If you play in the OBT of Ragnarok Online II, then you should know what I mean by Lagnarok.


	10. Picture Perfect

Date written: 19/01/13 – 20/02/13

Posted on FanFiction: 21/02/13

A/N: What a monster this chapter was. A lot of things to implement, but it seems I had to cut a specific scene to better the flow of the chapter as a whole. Sad, but necessary, I guess.

A great thing about writing and reading fanfiction is that you can improve yourself better by listing out traits in fanfiction that are so freakin' cringe-worthy for published literature. One of them happens to be flashbacks and how a lot of writers stick to the status quo and use headers. I've always hated those flashback scenes in fanfics, with Naruto fanfic writers being stupid about it and writing down "Flashback no Jutsu" and "Flashback no Jutsu, Kai!" or just "Flashback" and "Flashback End." You don't know how many times my eyebrow twitched at these (or the urge to facepalm, but that began to fade once I realized that facepalming would not magically make the fic more bearable to read at all), more so when they go right to the past after two or three paragraphs from the start of the chapter. Seriously, the least they could do is put effort in implementing past events to the present in some way, like how Charles Dickens would do it. Using the headers mentioned is just evidence of bad, amateurish writing.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 10 ––<strong>

**Picture Perfect**

"_**I like you!"**_

_**Silence was the reply.**_

"_**I really like you, Kodaka."**_

_**Silence.**_

"_**I know this is very sudden and all, but I just couldn't help myself. I fell in love, okay. Don't blame for that."**_

_**A footstep. Was it forward or backward? Her or me?**_

"_**And I know that I can't expect to hear an answer from you so suddenly either. So . . . could you . . . please think about it and give me an answer soon?"**_

_**Numbness. Winter in the heart. Vertigo in the stomach. But a reply was given nonetheless. "Y-yeah . . ."**_

"_**This is where we part. See you tomorrow, Kodaka."**_

_**She left.**_

_**And we never met again.**_

* * *

><p>I awoke in the bedroom I shared with Yukimura, feeling sweat coursing down my cheeks, sheer moisture enveloping my back. Somehow I shouldn't be surprised for this, neither the dream nor the fact that I need a change of clothes quick. It was my bright idea to take a nap in my room without bothering to turn on the AC, especially on a day smack in the middle of summer. I was literally asking for my body to produce copious amounts of sweat, but not of my own choice.<p>

Still, I thought I came here to clear my head, but I guess as they say, the past comes back to haunt you. I already had trouble keeping my sanity together with sudden recollections and flashbacks of my middle school days, when things were less complicated and the only thing I had to worry about at school was if I had to contend in another cooking contest with Jun—

Dammit. There I go again, thinking about her.

After she kissed me without warning and after I instinctively began to kiss her back, on that grassy slope with the wind dancing around us and the sweet scent of her mild perfume tickling my nostrils, she took the response as an invitation for something more risqué. Either out of embarrassment or information overload—I couldn't tell which—my body didn't take well to that. It might've accepted a surprise and chaste kiss, but tongue action was still too much for me. It caught me by surprise, for sure, yet something in me felt repulsed by it.

Jun took the initiative. Jun made the first move. Jun immediately went to heavy kissing when I responded.

I must've felt repulsed because it seemed like Jun was used to this sort of thing. And it just made me a whole lot more confused and hesitant. I didn't want the past to haunt me with a vengeance for a second fuck-up by running away again, so I stood my ground no matter how much my feet wanted to stretch the distance between me and her right now. In the end, I managed to make her believe that I needed time to think and sort through all this—because, really, apparently over three years was not enough time for me to think of an answer—and before we parted ways, we exchanged emails.

"If you end up rejecting me anyway I want us to still stay as friends," she had said. "Like we always had been."

Yeah. Those were good times indeed.

Sighing, I got out of bed, opened my suitcase, and grabbed one of the extra shirts I had the mind to pack two days before. The others were probably worried at the state I was in when I got back; I didn't even put my heart in the lunch I made. The taste was still amazing and the happy, contented faces of the girls were able to lift my spirits for a bit, but their praises and smiles merely postponed the storm brewing inside my gut. I had to excuse myself from the table once my meal was done (and that was hard to do, considering I lost my appetite halfway through), leaving the dish cleaning to whoever would volunteer (most likely Stella), and had gone to the toilet.

This would be the part where I threw up the lunch I had, to further accentuate the anguish in me . . .

. . . was what I would've liked to do, but my stomach was perfectly fine and bent on digesting the food without problems. A storm truly was brewing in there—a sort of vertigo with a sinking heart—but such an unusual event did not detract the organ from fulfilling its task.

I had peed instead before going back to my bedroom and sleep half of the afternoon off.

I heard two soft knocks from the bedroom door, snapping me out of the momentary flashbacks I had been getting, and a person in a maid uniform entered while saying, "Pardon my intrusion."

When Yukimura saw me, he took pause for a moment and then completed his entry into the room, shutting the door behind him. He bowed his head in greeting. "Did you have a good night's sleep, Aniki?"

I took a peek at the window. There was still light, but from what was a blue sky had morphed to yellow-orange, affecting even the clouds which were shining a dozen shades lighter than the current sky. "Yeah, but I doubt you'd call it a good night's sleep if it's only for a few hours, though."

Yukimura also glanced at the window. "Yes, it would seem that way."

I tried to smile and I failed. Yukimura didn't seem affected by my grimace, though. "Well, what're the others doing?" I asked as I looked for my towel. I would've preferred to take a bath, but maybe I should save that for tonight.

"Yozora-anego is still reading her novel, Sena-anego is helping Stella-anego with something in the attic, Rika-dono is watching anime on the TV, and Maria-dono and Aniki's little sister are in their room resting as you were."

"And you?"

"I was diligently keeping watch just outside our room."

I found my towel and picked it up, but it slipped from my hand when Yukimura said that last sentence. Keeping it cool, I picked up the towel again and said, "Good job . . . er, I guess?"

He put a hand to his heart and smiled. "You are ever generous in your praises as always, Aniki. I thank you."

"Don't mention it."

I was in the middle of taking off my shirt when I heard a tiny gasp from behind me. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw Yukimura putting the side of his forefinger to his lips while veering his eyes away from me, although that didn't stop him from taking occasional glances. I tried to ignore the deep blush enveloping his cheeks. Honestly, any more factors that just screamed "girly reaction" and I might start questioning Yukimura again if he really was a male.

"What is it?" I asked, wondering—yet also dreading—the answer to that.

"Aniki, drenched in sweat, taking off his shirt with no hesitation"—Yukimura chanced another glance at my semi-naked form and his blush intensified—"it is the epitome of manliness that I cannot even begin to copy. I am a failure as an underling."

"Uh, yeah."

What could I say to that?

Deep breath. Okay.

_Okay, Kodaka. Keep the comments to yourself and try not to think of what his blush is implying_, I thought. As long as I ignore it, then there would be no need to bring it up any time soon. Like a soldier told to double time, I dried myself up and got into my new shirt as fast as I could, wanting to get away from the furtive glances from a boy who was more than likely sizing me up. I never once thought about Yukimura's sexual orientation, yet now that it had come to my thoughts, it wouldn't simply leave me alone anymore.

I heard a soft rumble next to my bed. My cellphone was lying idly on the bedside table and when I picked it up and flipped it open, the icons on the upper right of the screen told me it was half-past five in the afternoon and that my phone was in silent mode. Which would explain why I had one unread message from Jun without being alerted from my nap.

I gulped before opening the message.

_**Sender: Jun Kasugano**_

_**Hey Kodaka. Just wanting to see if I had the right number. Reply ASAP if it's really you, okay. ;)**_

Where does she get that bumble of positive energy from, anyway?

The message was two hours old, though, and if I knew Jun, if messaging didn't work she'd try calling, and the last thing I needed was to make the Neighbors Club aware of her existence. I didn't know why, but I somehow understood that letting the girls know of Jun would be akin to stepping on ten explosive mines at the same time, never mind that I had no idea how I'd do that when I only had two feet. So I sent a quick reply, saying she got the right number and that I'd be busy for the rest of the night.

I guess it was time for me to get used to silent mode; me receiving frequent emails when every single person who have my email address was here in this summerhouse was too suspicious to let chance and luck play against. Playing it safe was my best bet, but I had this gnawing feeling that such an option would do more harm in the long run than just admitting to the rest that I had an old friend I accidentally managed to get reacquainted with.

And as with many such things before it, I decided to play ignorant.

* * *

><p>The living room was quiet, Rika having finished with her anime and moving on to one of the doujinshi she brought with her on this trip. Her excited yet creepy giggles could be heard, but she retained consideration for Yozora, who preferred to read in silence. The two kids were still in their room, sleeping the day away, which was fine by me; little girls need their sleep if they wish to grow up, especially Kobato.<p>

Stepping into the room without preamble and ignoring the few creaks on the floorboards as I made my way towards the couch, I caught Yozora's and Rika's attentions for a brief moment before their respective gazes returned to their reading materials.

"Afternoon," I greeted and sat down on the couch.

"Yeah," Yozora said, keeping her face plastered on her novel.

And contrary to her senpai's actions, Rika lay down her manga to give me a more respectful greeting. "Good afternoon, senpai."

This scene wasn't exactly what I'd call part of the training trip if all these two were doing were the exact same things they would've done when they were in the clubroom, but then again, I couldn't fault them for not having any idea what to do other than to swim on the beach and play Dovahkiin Labyrinth, although in regards to the latter, I was certain Stella turned everyone off from playing that game till further notice. There was that Ouija board idea from our club meeting the day before the trip, but Rika said that she suddenly remembered giving it away to a niece of one of the Largehard developers since she no longer needed it for her satanic eroge research (a notion I still find most disturbing for a student of a Christian school).

Hmm . . . why did it feel like I was forgetting something?

"This is kind of boring, you know," I said to the room at large. "How is this not different from what you usually do at the clubroom?"

"There _is_ a difference, if you haven't noticed, Kodaka." She turned the page. "Meat isn't around to play her shameful games."

"Yeah, there's that, but I'm talking about you and Rika, not Sena."

"By the way, Kodaka-senpai, do you know what Sena-senpai is doing in the attic with Stella-san?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Probably looking for something there."

Just then, we heard a loud thud above us, followed by a thundering shriek. That was Sena's voice just now . . .

"KYAAA! Rat! Rat! Raaaaaattt!"

. . . okay, newly raised questions were answered without much thought.

Yozora and Rika found it amusing; they were failing spectacularly in hiding their mirth.

"Rika thinks _something_ found Sena-senpai instead," Rika quipped, and while it was cliché, it was enough to provide a few chuckles out of me. We heard more thuds and scratches above us, but no more screams from our resident rich girl.

While that was going on, Yukimura thought it necessary to make me some tea. This villa was equipped with a large thermos for the hot water, which was still far from empty, and so he managed to prepare a cup for me pretty quick. It was not as hot as I preferred, but I was not about to be picky. His tea was always excellently made.

I took the offered cup on a saucer, thanked him, and took a sip. My gaze turned upwards once more as the noise subsided, yet if one were to listen for it, they'd hear audible thuds moving about in every which way that the ceiling (and attic) could provide. "Now I'm really curious about what they're doing up there."

The thuds ended when the cup's tea volume was reaching the bottom and, as if I were expecting it, Stella entered the living room, walking with purpose to someone among us. That one being me.

"Kodaka-sama, may I use your services for a bit?"

"What services?" Sometimes dealing with this steward was like trying to solve a riddle, and sometimes those riddles don't have a proper answer. But it would be impolite to refuse without hearing her out first. As much as she was on the top of my 'People I Cannot Put Up With' List, that did not automatically mean instant alienation. This was good training for my tolerance with these kinds of people; there was no telling when this might prove useful in the future, but it was good to be prepared nonetheless.

Of course that was all in hindsight. During that moment, I was just thinking that if I didn't listen and do what she told me, she might find some way to _make_ me do it, but I was not about to let her believe I was eager, like a dog being enticed with a chew bone that I could play with to my heart's content.

Stella raised a finger and gestured to the corridor from where she had come out from. Nodding, I finished up the rest of my tea, stood up while handing over the cup and saucer to Yukimura and expressing my thanks again, and followed the adult to where our conversation would be a little more private. Rika and Yozora took great interest in our slight interaction, and I was feeling their curious stares penetrating my back. If Stella was either aware or bothered by this, she didn't show it. I was getting jealous at how well she plays that poker face.

"So, what is it you need?" I asked once we were in the clear, although judging by the timing, this task might involve the attic.

"Yes, it does involve the attic."

"… you're an esper. I don't have any evidence, but I'm sure as hell you're a freakin' esper."

She turned away, whether for dramatic effect or trying to hide what was already known to me, I was unsure. But did it matter? "I have no idea what you are talking about." After saying that telling statement, she gazed back at me and said, "I need help finding a particular box in the attic."

"I see. Okay, I'll help." It wouldn't be that hard to search for a box. While we were making our way to the attic entrance somewhere in this house, my curiosity persuaded me to ask this: "What's in the box anyway?"

"A few items of interest, nothing more," she answered. "They were left here accidentally over a decade ago. Of course, during summer vacation, when the Kashiwazaki family decided to spend a few days here, they'd get caught up in the fun and forget all about extracting the items in the attic."

"Were you with them?"

"Four times. This would be the fifth, despite Sena-sama being the only Kashiwazaki present."

"Then why didn't you get them yourself?"

"I had forgotten as well, Kodaka-sama. Surely you mustn't think of me as so perfect that I can pass off as a cybernetic organism from the future?"

No, I only thought of you as a secret esper-wannabe. "No."

"I am still human. I forget. We had so much fun at the time."

We reached the attic entrance, at the end of the corridor, just past Sena and Stella's room. Sena was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, shivering and looking over her shoulder and at the dark room above her.

"Good, you're here." Sena stood up as we approached. "It'll take too long if Stella looked for it alone."

"Weren't you with her there not long ago?" I asked, to which she stiffened. "I mean, we all heard you screa—"

"Th-th-th-th-that wasn't screaming! That giant, ugly, vulgar rat took me by surprise, is all." She crossed her arms and harrumphed like an offended lady, a combo action that offered an extra bounce on her _meat_. By this point, I got tired cursing my perverted eyes and let them have their momentary fun before I rip them away from looking at those fat mammary glands for too long. "What the hell are you saying? It's not like I'm scared of rats or anything."

"Has she always been afraid of rats?" I asked Stella.

"Guh!" Sena exclaimed, lost for words, probably due to my complete dismissal of her attempt at saving face.

"Not that I know of," Stella answered. "Sena-sama tolerated lab rats in her middle school Science classes, however."

"Stella!"

"I see." I sighed through my nose. "Why do you think it'd be hard to find that box there? It's not like the room's filled to the brim, right?"

Stella just looked at me with her head cocked to one side and an eyebrow raised as if I had just uttered a very stupid question.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me . . ."

"I kid you not, Kodaka-sama. This summerhouse has been used as a place for extra storage since it was built."

"But why wouldn't you guys just use your own mansion's attic?"

Sena answered, "It's already filled up as it is. Not to mention the unused rooms of the upper floors . . ."

Oi oi, that's a whole lot of stuff, you know.

My sigh this time was more dramatic. "Never mind, then." I came up to the stairs and began to ascend. Luckily enough, the lighting up here still worked along with a window that faced west, thus illuminating the dark corners that the bulb couldn't reach with orange sunlight. "What does the box look like?"

"It looks like the one you see in front of you."

It took me a while to process that specific description, and once I did, sure enough, there was a normal-looking cardboard box with the name of its contents written on its side, the script made by a permanent marker and very keen and gentle handwriting that one would have to be a complete dunce to misread it.

_**The Debauchery of Four Adults + 1 Teenager**_

I tried to convince myself that I was a complete dunce. I really tried.

"Do you see it, Kodaka-sama?"

I grunted, then coughed. "Yeah, I see it." Before I took another step, I realized something. "If you already know where it was, why did you call me?"

She didn't offer a reply. I waited awhile, but all I could hear was silence from downstairs. Then: "It was not as if I asked for your help because I needed it."

Would wonders and surprises never cease today? My mind was already preoccupied with my reunion with Jun (don't think about the kiss, don't think about the kiss), and now Stella decided to throw a bombshell wherein she tries to act all tsundere. And in a stoic voice too! What was the point?!

"It's just that the box is too heavy for me to carry alone," Stella continued, and I had this strange idea of her blushing in embarrassment for confessing such a notion. It was typically girlish, an aspect I had a hard time mixing with Stoic Stella. To save my peace of mind, I looked around the attic, not really wanting to keep my gaze on the box with the ominous label.

When Stella mentioned it was used as storage, she was not kidding. It was either the Kashiwazakis had a lot of stuff they had no use for anymore or they were mild pack rats. The attic itself could barely hold all of the assortment of boxes jammed inside it. The slope of the roof limited the spacing, too, and I even had to crouch when I was close enough to the designated package to get a good lifting grip.

"Let me try it, then." I sighed and proceeded to carry the box out of the attic. Despite its small size—square-shaped and just twice as wide as my waist—it was pretty damn heavy. While it made me wonder what was in it, thinking back on the label made any curious vibe within me to freeze in terror. Some things were better left unknown, a part of me whispered wisely, as if it had been through such terrors before.

Heaving the box up with a grunt, my knees and elbows shaking a bit, I took two steps back and turned around, but the weight of the thing was too much for a prolonged carry so I dropped the thing with as much gentleness as I could manage within those few scant seconds of my collapsing strength, yet even so, I cloud of dust sprang out from both underneath and above it. I coughed and wheezed, fanning my face quickly. I had forgotten one important fact when it came to extracting things from an attic that hadn't been opened for what could surmount to more than just a few years: the level of dust it had accumulated.

Sena and Stella weren't saved from a dust attack either, I realized in retrospect—I merely decided to ignore the dark stains in their respective clothing. My newly changed shirt was now stained with black and gray and I silently wept at my misfortune.

"Is everything okay up there, Kodaka?" Sena asked from below.

"Yeah," I said, not able to hide a bit of sarcasm from leaking, "everything's dandy."

"Well, hurry up then! That box won't climb down by itself, you know."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'll assist you in this part, Kodaka-sama."

"Thanks, Stella-san."

One end of the box was a few inches from the first stair, and we managed to organize a plan to provide a smooth descent, although it wasn't really fancy or genial. Stella had trouble carrying it, so we had to resort to sliding it down step by step, hoping that there was nothing too fragile inside this. Stella looked to have little care about the twelve bumps it had to contend with, so I guessed my worries were useless.

"So this is the box, huh?" Sena began examining the sides of the thing and ended up finding the ominous label. "Wha—What the hell does that mean?!"

"The debauchery of—"

"We get what it said, Stella-san," I interjected.

"Then what more do you wish to know? The insides of the box will explain it a lot better than I would. I was but a teen back then."

That explained the 'plus one teen' part. "I think I'll pass."

"Well, I'm curious." Sena crossed her arms—don't look at the _meat_, don't look at the _meat_. "I'll go get the cutter from the kitchen. Kodaka, can you help Stella move this to the bedroom?"

I nodded and helped the butler out without causing much of a fuss. Whatever stuff inside this box would have to remain a mystery for me, that was for certain, though. I trusted my instincts when it behaved as if I were handling a volatile vintage landmine.

"If that's all," I said as Sena returned with a cutter in her hand, "I think I'll go take a shower." Profuse sweating and reeking of dust and dirt. I'd be lazy to not shower now.

"Are you sure you do not wish to stay for the unveiling?" Stella asked, taking the cutter from Sena's hands.

"As sure as I am dirty," I replied.

"All right."

And when I was already halfway through the door to their room and when Stella was almost done in cutting out the tape sealing the cardboard box shut, she said something that floored me and her charge: "You'll miss your chance in finding Sena-sama's parents' sex tape."

I stumbled my toe on the door frame and as I yelped in pain and tried to process the butler's statement completely, I saw Sena coughing a storm, the saliva she was swallowing at the moment of her shock made it go through the wrong pipe.

"What the hell?!" It was the only thing I _could_ say, still in shock over the bombshell the woman revealed, although a part of me had this gnawing suspicion that—

"Haha. Merely a joke," Stella then said. "No need to fret."

Gnawing suspicion verified. I gritted my teeth and walked out of the room. I had enough of this nonsense. Enough!

* * *

><p>It was when I was drying my body with towel that I recalled something I had almost forgotten. With all the chaos engulfing this day, I had not thought about the special package I brought with me to this trip: the movie. So once I dressed—thankful that there was a washing machine and powdered detergent for me to wash my dust-riddled shirt—I returned to my room, grabbed the video case, and sauntered into the living room, where the rest of the Neighbors Club looked to have not changed their activities at all, except for the two youngest, who had woken up from their nap by now and were busy arguing over who had swum better in the sea that morning.<p>

Two particular people were absent and the reason for that was obvious. It was not as if I was curious about the contents of the box, but watching the movie should be attended by the whole club, so I walked away without anyone knowing I had been there and made my way to Sena and Stella's room.

I didn't bother knocking, just went in without warning.

"Ah . . ."

Then right in front of me was the epitome of debauchery that would forever be embedded into my brain.

Actually no, nothing of that sort happened. This wasn't some romance comedy manga with cliché antics, after all. Stella and Sena were still ruffling through some stuff and strange paraphernalia I could not give proper names for, but they did change out of their dirty clothes before opening up that Pandora's Box. Dust had not accumulated so much within it, and with the outside already cleansed, the two had little to worry about dirtying themselves again. My abrupt entrance seemed to have broken a spell between the two since Stella immediately turned to face me while Sena looked away, making herself look smaller while hiding something from my view. It was probably something embarrassing from inside the box. With a label like it had, it was undoubtedly a treasure trove of unmentionables about her parents, and that in itself would make any child of theirs uncomfortable.

"Are you . . . busy right now, Sena?"

Setting whatever she was holding down behind the box so I wouldn't see it, Sena replied, "Not really. I-I still need to look at a few more things here."

"Oh, okay. It's better we do this after dinner anyway."

"Do what after dinner?"

"This." I showed her the plastic bag she had been curious about when we went shopping the day before yesterday and fished out the Blu-Ray movie. Despite the distance and the tiny size of the movie's title, Sena's keen eyes puckered, concentrating on the front cover of the disc case.

"Hachiko?"

I nodded. "The recent American remake. I heard some good things about it."

"Heeeeeh," she drawled. "So why'd you keep it a secret? Here I thought it'd be something more interesting than a movie about a dog."

"It's more than just a movie about a dog!" I rebuked. "Don't you remember the story of Hachiko? It's about loyalty and never-ending bonds. Just the kind of movie the Neighbors Club should watch on this trip."

"I don't know," she replied slowly. She cocked her head to the side, the right side of her lips leaning against her cheek, giving the image of a woman who was more than a little skeptical.

"Come on, what's the worst that could happen? It's only a movie."

She stood up and grabbed the case out of my hands. She flipped it to the back cover and began perusing what was written there. "Well, it's not as if I've got anything better to do. The box can wait for tomorrow." She said that, but I had this feeling that she was hiding something. "Have you asked the others yet?"

I shook my head and crossed my arms. "Nope. Doubt they'll say no to a movie night, though. The only thing missing would be the popcorn."

"I remember a movie night scene in _Red Like Roses_." A pleasant-looking expression came onto her face, directing itself to the Blu-Ray. "It sure looked fun."

"Is this another one of your galge?"

"You make it sound like I only know of galge." The pleasant face morphed into something—I would honestly admit—quite intimidating. Menacing even. "And no, it's not from galge. _Red Like Roses_ is an old chick flick."

"You watch chick flicks?"

"I'm a girl too, you know!" She shoved the case back to me. "Even I have thoughts of romance from time to time."

"Yet in truth," Stella interjected, "it was a movie I had rented for a school project, and you merely wanted to watch as well."

"Stella!"

Scratching my nape, I rejoined the conversation before Sena could go on a tangent and offer an alternate explanation for the chick flick interest. "If it's all well here, I need to start preparing dinner."

"Is it almost time already?" Stella wondered, checking her wristwatch. "My, how time flies in memory lane." She cast a glance to the assorted items lying outside the box.

"I'll call you when dinner's ready."

Sena lifted her hand towards me, palm up. "I'll go tell the others about the movie while you start dinner."

"Thanks a bunch." I gave her the case again and we walked together till we separated in the living room.

It was only when I stepped into the inner realm behind the kitchen island that I realized Stella followed me here. She was standing at attention, hands clasped and positioned below her waist, her eyes unnerving me.

"You didn't think I'd let you cook dinner alone, did you?"

Inside, I wept. The only sanctuary I had ever known and it had been tarnished, dirtied, after only eleven words. It was not surprising that my tongue found the taste of the paella somewhat lacking, although the others sang nothing but praise over how delicious it was. But I'd take what I could get; at least they were being honest, not sarcastic.

* * *

><p><em>She filled the bath bowl with warm water and then tipped it over her head, rinsing her body from all the soap suds and shampoo bubbles. She breathed in deep and let it out with little haste, basking in the warmth of the water and steam in the bathroom. A simple shower for a simple 'lather, rinse, and sleep' routine would've been ideal, but tonight seemed more suited for a slow, ponderous bath time.<em>

_Was it really just two days ago that she took a bath inside Kodaka's house? It might seem a little perverted and—she would have to admit it—uncomfortable to talk about to Yozora just for a chance to one-up the insatiable brunette, so she decided to keep that secret. Where she slept that night was no one's business but her father's after all, and he seemed to trust Kodaka completely, the kind of trust he had made more in good faith than knowing the secrets of what made the boy tick._

"_Unlike other guys," she whispered to the room, checking the temperature of the furo before dipping into it, sighing in contentment as the hot water engulfing her whole body felt as if it were washing her stress and troubles away. She could spend an hour inside the tub and no one would mind; she was the second to last one to go, after all, and the last would be Stella. They'd often bathed together when she was small. But she doubted she'd take that long to ponder over the day._

"_Something's on his mind . . ."_

_It had been eating at him since he came back, too. Kodaka might like to think that he was putting up a good front to prevent any questions that could lead to discriminating answers—or at least answers he didn't want to be answering—and he could've gotten away with it, if not for Stella's expertise in poker faces. The steward knew right away of Kodaka's dilemma from but a mere glance, and though her first instinct had been to confront him about his issue, Stella kept her from doing so._

Some guys don't like nosy women_, she had said and Sena left it at that._

_The bath might've done an excellent job in washing away her stress and troubles, but her worries remained ever strong and nagging. And who knew that the main worry happened to be the boy she had once decided to give up on? Stella made sound arguments about keeping up the fight till she went the distance, and she was not about to be happy that with all the bark she had done to rise up Sena's spirit that Sena herself would not try a thing in attaining Kodaka's heart._

_Honestly, Stella could be quite bossy if she let her do as she pleased. It almost reminded her of Papa—_

_She shook her head. That subject was taboo and better left undisturbed and unrecalled._

_Her fingers began to whirl in front of her, stirring a section of the water as if wanting to create a mini-whirlpool, but there was just not enough power and speed. The only effect accomplished from the cause was a ripple effect bouncing the surface of the water against the topmost height of the tub. On a strange whim, she took a deep breath and submerged herself fully into the water, trying to keep an eye on the tub's edge for the inevitable overflow but couldn't. The moment her head went under, the warm embrace of the water proved to be a very soothing experience for her that her intent had been forgotten._

_Instead, she thought back to the movie. When she suggested it to everyone present in the living room, they were, more or less, unsure of it, and it was only when she said that it was Kodaka who picked the movie that everyone else seemed more accepting of it. It made her rethink about her position in the club. Of course, she pondered over this before, but she always shrugged it off, as if it were nothing major to really worry over._

_But what if she was wrong? What if the club really did not think highly of her as the rest of the boys in the student body did?_

_That would make them in a similar, if not the same, level of animosity displayed by the girls in her class. Such disdain and sarcasm thrown about like it was going out of style. But—_

_No, that couldn't be right. There was no such animosity in the club. Maybe a few scruffs and arguments, but never outward hatred or repulsion aimed at her. So if not hatred, what was it, she asked herself, instantly thinking that it could be jealousy, but concluding nothing. Whatever it was, she was still inexperienced in social interactions to figure out, but then again, she was thankful for Stella being there to give her input. She would ask the butler once she got out of the bath._

"_. . . na-sa . . ." A disembodied voice followed by a muffled knock._

_She breached the surface and eyed the door, where she could make out the silhouette of a tall woman holding a towel in her hand like how an old-fashioned waiter would. Speak of the devil . . ._

"_Sena-sama, will you be taking your time in the bath?"_

_She didn't need to think about her answer. "Yeah. You can join me if you want, Stella."_

"_Then I shall accept your offer."_

_The bathroom door slid open and in came Stella, naked and holding a small beige towel on her forearm and a bath rag in her hand. It made her wonder when was the last time the two of them bathed together like this. _

Maybe not so long_, she thought, vaguely recalling one time they did do that about a week or two ago._

_She shifted her position so she could look at Stella without craning her neck. The woman wasted no time getting comfortable in the room, sitting on the seat Sena had vacated not five minutes ago, and commenced the well-practiced routine of getting herself clean. A perfect chance for her to ask her questions._

"_Hey, Stella . . ."_

"_Yes? What is it?"_

"_Well, uh . . ." The situation was okay and she already knew what words to say, but somehow they didn't want to come out of her lips. Something was holding her back and, like the unknown emotion displayed by the other girls of the club, she had no clue what it could be. She recognized it, in a way, but at the same time it felt so foreign that there should've been no room for any such recognition. She was too confused at the moment. "Never mind."_

_Stella stayed quiet, stayed unmoving, keeping her gaze on Sena until it was apparent that she would not budge about the subject. "You know," she said, grabbing the soap and lathering it up, "my door is always open, Sena-sama. If ever there is trouble in your mind, do not hesitate to ask me and I will help as best as I possibly can."_

_And she meant that. Sena could feel it. The only reason Stella didn't try prying like she did yesterday morning in the Hasegawa guestroom was that she felt—and understood—that she had overstepped her bounds. But at the time, they weren't speaking in terms of master and servant but of woman to woman, of a sister putting out an ear to listen and giving wisdom when it was needed. This difference did little in reacquainting herself with the role as her steward, but if ever Sena wished to reconnect with that kind of bond, she only needed to say so. Stella wouldn't budge unless Sena gave her the go sign._

_And Sena—pressured by the dark emotions and a misplaced pride to ponder this over by herself awhile longer—stayed away from the offer._

_By the time she finished her bath, the time in her cellphone said that it was already eleven in the evening. It was lights out by now, and no doubt everybody else had either tucked themselves to bed or slacked around in their respective rooms until the calls of Morpheus become too loud to ignore. Stella didn't bring pajamas with her when she entered the bathroom—why would she? She slept in the nude after all._

_So Sena didn't bat an eyelash when Stella walked to their room with just a towel on, more so when she folded her dirty clothes inside her luggage before shrugging off the towel and climbing onto her bed._

_Sena wasn't really tired yet—too much on her mind right now—so she returned to the cardboard box they had extracted from the attic and perused more of its contents. She fished out the picture book she had found earlier and jumped to the page she had bookmarked. She smiled. There was another picture of Mama and Papa in their swimsuits, smiling happily at the camera, and then there was a picture of them playing beach volleyball, despite the amount of players being only four. They looked a lot younger in this one; the photo was quite old, almost twenty years ago, a year or so before they had her._

_During the first perusal, she didn't really pay attention to the extra couple who had joined her parents to a trip here in this private beach—probably just one of the many friends her Mama had, seeing that the other woman was a foreigner herself—but now that she saw a picture of the fourth person with them, the cameraman, her mind began connecting dots._

_The fourth guy looked a lot like Kodaka. And once that connection was made, she observed the other woman and saw some likeness with Kobato, the twin side ponytails, the slender figure, the shy way she would act sometimes whenever the camera was pointed at her._

"_You're kidding . . ."_

_It shouldn't be surprising, she told herself. Kodaka had already explained to her that their fathers were good friends, and on that note, it wasn't much of a stretch for their wives to get acquainted and become friends themselves. But because she never thought about that possibility, the evidence of there being history between their parents honestly shocked her. She would've gone and asked Stella if the events dictated by these photographs were really true, but she reminded herself that at this time, Stella would've been still just a child living with her mother in England and wouldn't be coming to work with the Kashiwazakis, or be in Japan, until Stella was fourteen._

"_Kodaka's Mama and Papa, huh."_

_She looked at them closely. They were young and playful. Whenever it was her father's turn to be shooting pictures, Kodaka's father—Hayato, she recalled Papa saying was his name—would make it a point to sneak in affectionate moments between him and Airi, his soon-to-be wife. Airi would act shy and resistant to his wooing, but Sena could see by the upturn of her lips in one sneak shot that his acts weren't for nothing. They were very much like a couple in love. And she couldn't stop thinking of her and Kodaka acting the same way sometime down the road . . ._

_She flipped the pages and observed a story being told in these images of the past. They were numerous and both guys were uncaring of the amount of film they were wasting—they probably bought a dozen rolls of it for this—and the more she looked, the more she was growing jealous of the bond between Hayato and Airi. Of course, there was the love between her own parents, but they could not compare to what the Hasegawas had. She turned the page once more._

_And there came a picture she never saw coming._

_The pictures in this album were in chronological order, a pattern she had seen by looking at the dates printed on the pictures themselves, and now that she was close to the end of the book, the date had already stated that it was about fourteen years ago, specifically when she was only three years old._

_There she was, in a cute blue two-piece baby swimsuit, holding hands with a boy of her age._

_A familiar boy with blond- and brown-mixed hair._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

I made a few small references in regards to the events in the spin-off novel, Haganai Connect. If you found it, you found it. If you did not, don't look for it. Only someone who read the novel (or the summary spoilers) would understand what I was implying.

_Red Like Roses_ is a made-up movie I thought of. Don't bother googling for it.

I've already swerved into AU territory when I first alluded to Jun in Chapter 6. The surprise ending of this chapter (spoiler ahead), however, is somewhat canon. The picture I doubt existed, but Kodaka and Sena knowing each other since they were at that age is true. It'll be an important focal point when the 2nd season reaches its climax; I already think they'll go for an anime original ending than end it the same way Yomi-sensei ended Volume 8.


	11. Her, Me, and Childhood

Date written: 26/02/13 – 20/03/13

Posted on FanFiction: 20/03/13

A/N: I have no excuses; I've been procrastinating for about a week after posting the last chapter and wrote this one on and off throughout this month. I'm ashamed of myself and my work ethic. I wasn't like this before yet it degenerated to this regardless. I can only pray to do better next time.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 11 ––<strong>

**Her, Me, and Childhood**

I was dreaming of old times, of when I first befriended Jun, of when I first met my childhood friend in that park as we banded together to beat up other kids, of when Jun first challenged me to a cooking duel, of when I waited all day for my friend to show up in the park the day before we were about to move away. Memories lulling in the back of my mind charged into the frontlines, wanting to be recognized, to be remembered, but this was not all fun and games for me. There was a small section of these subconscious reminiscences that left me puzzled, not that they were unfamiliar to me, but more akin to half-remembering a long forgotten memory. There was a sunset, I could clearly picture that, despite how hazy memory and cognition could be in dreams sometimes, and I could tell that I was holding hands with someone. Someone who was the same age as me because if it were an adult, my arm would've been rising up like an eager student knowing the answer to a question. But who? Who? And why was that sunset so familiar, so important.

"Kodaka . . ."

Why?

". . . Kodaka . . ."

Why . . .?

". . . Kodaka!"

I was startled awake from the nudges on my right shoulder. My mind hadn't rebooted completely, so my eyes tracked the room I was in, the bed I was sleeping on, and then the person who had woken me. It was a little dark—the moonlight mostly covered up by the curtains above the headboard—but my eyes had adapted to the low illumination ages ago, so it was not at all difficult for me to make out the features of a blue-like-colored negligee and a valley so vast and deep and enticing that I doubt the tent in my shorts was formed solely from morning wood.

"Meat," I groaned so pathetically that I doubted the owner of that valley comprehended what I said.

Two more nudges. "Come on, wake up already," she said, almost a whisper. "Kodaka!"

"I'm up, I'm up," I replied, but I doubted that was true. The need to go back to sleep was strong, after all. I sat up from my bed and shook my head a few times. Rubbing my eyes, I asked her, "What is it?"

Sena looked unsure for a moment. "Um, come with me for a sec."

Aware of my morning wood, I knew that standing up now would be bad, unless I didn't mind Sena seeing it and pointing it out with a blushed face that screamed embarrassment. I also understood that not doing anything was bad as well; there was a bursting pressure in my bladder and if I dawdled here for too long I might end up causing an accident on the bed.

What rotten luck.

To compare the shames between wetting the bed at my age and letting a girl see my erection, I'd pick the latter. There were worse things to occur than having a girl see _that_, like seeing it in all its glory or something. Goddammit, my face was burning up now.

"Let me go to the bathroom first," I said to her and slid to the side of the bed, my feet touching the cold wooden floor as I slouched over like a hunchback. The less she was aware of my dilemma, the better. I stood up, slightly facing away from her, quite glad that she was keeping her eyes on my face, which was doing great lengths to not peer downwards to inspect how noticeable the tent was.

Another reason that this choice was the lesser of two evils: I still have a chance of escaping shame.

* * *

><p>After depressurizing my bladder—and my erection—the two of us moved to the living room where an assortment of items was set on the coffee table in front of the TV. Sena had planned ahead, it seemed, but the reason still escaped me. I should be more wary, seeing that these items had come from the debauchery box, but even if I should be, I didn't think Sena would let me off the hook just because I felt uncomfortable so I ventured forward like a man waiting for the shots of the firing squad.<p>

Sena was unusually silent when she came along with me to the bathroom, explaining that she needed to go as well. In any case, the gentleman that I was, I gave her dibs on the toilet before my turn, yet from the moment I got up from bed to when we were sitting next to each other at the couch—me trying not to ogle too much of Sena's choice of sleepwear again—there was barely a word from her. And even now there wasn't.

From where I sat, she looked hesitant and nervous, rubbing her fingers together like an addict in desperate need for its fix. Finding that she wasn't about to explain right away why she had to wake me up at two in the morning for, I checked the things on the coffee table. In front of me was a thick, laminated book. Purple in color, engraved above the center of the cover in gold letterings were the words **PHOTO ALBUM**. Next to the album was a transparent CD case and inside it was a white disc with neither a title nor a brand name decal. I looked back at Sena, confused.

"They're things I found from the box," she said, but it didn't clear my confusion yet. "I think you should know what's in there, too."

"Why?"

Her nervousness grew. She fumbled with her words and, realizing that she was going nowhere with it, took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "This photo album contains pictures of when Mama and Papa spent their vacations here."

I somehow understood that there was more to it than that, so I kept silent.

"I looked through them because I was curious and I stumbled on something else . . ."

She went quiet after that, unsure of what to say, so I decided to take the initiative and pulled the book onto my lap, asking with my face if it was okay for me to look inside. She responded with a nod, her features relaxing, her body scooting closer to me, most probably to peer at the pictures she mentioned again.

I opened to the first page and there was Pegasus with his wife, smiling at the camera, the former subdued, the latter a full-blown grin.

Sena wasn't kidding when she said she got her looks from her mother. Mrs. Kashiwazaki was an unchallenged beauty, with her heart-shaped face, ivory skin not at all darkened by the sun, full natural red lips that emphasized her Caucasian heritage, blonde hair that reached her back, and eyes the color of turquoise. Her choice of swimwear was far from modest, but it managed to radiate her beauty alongside the sexy aspects of the revealing bikini. Pegasus always stroke me as the traditional type, believing that he'd be more inclined to wear a fundoshi than the turquoise speedo he wore in this photo, but a part of me suspected that his wife had something to do with that.

I turned page after page, seeing more of the happy vacation of Sena's parents in their earlier years, seeing less of the relevance these pictures have of why I was here looking at them in the first place.

"Almost there," she said, and that dissuaded my impatience for a bit. I turned the page once more and my eyes widened. "Look. There, you see!"

Oh I saw, all right, but seeing was different from comprehending. I had to blink a couple of times, putting it into my mind that my eyes were playing tricks on me, but there was no trickery and there was no digital editing involved in this picture that shook me to the core.

The setting was on a beach in midday, specifically this particular beach because the villa was in the background. Staring into the camera, hand-in-hand, were two children barely preschool age . . .

And one of them had the same shade of hair as mine.

"Thi—this is . . .!" I couldn't articulate the right words, still reeling from the shock. I turned to Sena, hoping that she had answers to my questions, but the moment our eyes made contact, she looked away.

She rubbed her hands again. "It's a picture of us as kids, it seems."

Well, yeah, I could see that, but the bigger question for me was why something like this existed. Then again, I should've realized that it was likely for our fathers to introduce us to each other, seeing that they were the best of friends. It would've been weirder if they didn't, and not once had I thought of such a scenario. The picture on this album was proof of me and Sena having met a long time ago, even though I couldn't remember this event at all. And, if I was reading this situation correct, neither did Sena.

Gulping, I turned the page with shaky hands. There were more pictures of us two. Here was a photo of us collecting shells next to the shore, Sena giving a smile to the camera while I was fixated with the shell in my hand. The next photo was a continuation of the first, with me discovering that the shell was occupied by a sea creature and ending up panicking, while she was alerted from my surprise. The third photo was of her getting away from the hastily thrown sea creature and shell. The fourth, fifth, and sixth chronicled Sena tripping and then getting slapped by a strong wave.

Six small pictures that told a story of our childhood, and it was so out of left field that I couldn't avoid letting out a snort of amusement.

"Quit laughing!" she cried, almost growling. "That was your fault, you know."

"Clearly." I looked at the other page, scanning the other fun things and antics our little selves had gotten into. "It's almost hard to believe that we met so long ago."

"I know. Papa never mentioned that we were childhood friends . . ."

"Hmm, he must've thought we still remembered each other." I paid close attention to the picture of me being snuggled by my mother, while Sena and Mrs. Kashiwazaki did the same next to us. My heart felt like it had twisted into a painful little knot as I smiled forlornly at Mom.

Seeing where my eyes were on, she only had this to say: "You must really miss her."

It didn't matter if that was all she could give; a little acknowledgment was the most I'd need. "We all do."

Our family was tight-knit, meaning that our bonds were at their strongest, and when those bonds had been irreversibly severed by the death of one, it resonated in us all. I never thought much on the effects Mom's death had done to us before, but it probably affected us all in certain ways. Lost to us at a time when Kobato was too little to really remember much of her, she still somehow turned a liking to Iron Necromancer's lead character who had heterochromatic eyes and there was one episode where she was forced to wear an eye patch on her right eye. Just like how Mom wore it in her teen years. I could recall it by memory—she seemed quite attached to that eye patch for some reason and whenever I asked Dad, he would smile like the sun and fail to give me a straight answer—while Kobato recalled it through pictures in our albums, but even then, a part of me believed that she turned to that anime because it was the closest it had been able to mimic Mom in a way, although I didn't share Kobato's sentiments to it.

As I removed the photo from the book, putting it closer to my face, I imagined how life would've been like if she hadn't died so young. Where would we have gone? Would we, as a family, still return to Tohya after Mom finally managed to have Dad settle down there, or would we have never left our home at all, thus I never had to leave the friend I left behind without a word? How would we have fared if she had been still there to guide us?

Heavy. My heart was so heavy and my throat felt so dry. I wanted to turn away, to stop looking at the photo, at me of when I was three, at my mother whose enchanting smile was forever embedded into this small rectangular image. I wanted to stop thinking about her, but I could not. Once I started, it was hard to stop.

A hand landed on my shoulder, its warmth passing through my shirt, its gentleness easing the weight a bit and its delicate fingers giving a comforting squeeze. When I turned away from the image and looked at Sena, she had scooted even closer to me that we were almost shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. There was no smile of reassurance, no eyes of understanding, because she couldn't give them. No, it was more like she understood little of what I had gone through since things turned bleak, so she conveyed her comfort through her eyes and her actions rather than her lips. A smile or words were not the things I wanted to see or hear.

I missed Mom. Dad missed Mom. Kobato missed Mom.

We missed her. So much.

"Mom used to bake cookies," I said, not intending to really say much of anything, letting silence be the boundary of my personal dome as I try to put my wits together and stay strong. But these words—as if they had been harbored inside of me for so long, dormant and volatile, waiting for any kind of release—began to form on my lips with little to no hesitation on my part. It was frightening, but at the same time, soothing.

"I used to love them. Sweet, soft, tasted like heaven in your mouth. Every time I took that first bite from a freshly baked batch, I'd say 'Mom's cooking is the best' and she'd blush like a tomato." I shook my head in remembrance. "It wasn't until later did I find out that Mom was a terrible cook when she was young. It was why most of the kitchen duty was relegated to Dad whenever he was around. His cooking had always been superior when I think of it in hindsight, but I guess the tongue of a kid with a sweet tooth would be enamored by cookies a lot more than the variety of cuisines Dad could whip up in a jiff."

Some people remarked that if there was an award for worst cooking, Britain would win it, and seeing that my Mom was British, well . . . I can only say I earned my cooking prowess through my own sweat and stepping over my failures, not at all telling myself that I inherited this gift from one of my parents. To agree with that would mean condemning the other.

"Mama's the same way," Sena said. "I mean the cookies part. She has always been good in the kitchen, but she rarely cooks at all. Once in a blue moon, she'd cook something. Sometimes something simple like pancakes, sometimes something extravagant like Baked Alaska—she made the ice cream herself, that's why—and I had always been in awe at how . . . easy it was for her. I tried doing it myself, but . . ." An uneasy smile formed on her lips. "I was only eight, so I got off easy when I set the kitchen on fire."

"Pfft!"

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" She punched my arm, and it wasn't a friendly tap either.

Despite the pain on my arm, I couldn't remove the smile entirely as Sena looked away from me, pouting like a little kid who didn't get her way. Another facet of her I found so cute that it was almost mindboggling.

"By the way," I said, wanting to move the conversation forward. Well, there was also my curiosity getting the better of me, but she wouldn't know anything about that. I gestured to the disc case on the table. "What's the CD for?"

"It's a home movie, I guess. I watched it before I went to you so I know what's in it."

"It doesn't contain any form of debauchery, does it?"

She blushed. "Even now your taste in jokes is like water."

I frowned, inadvertently taking that remark in a literal sense. "Huh? But isn't water kinda tasteless?"

"Exactly."

Miffed but unmotivated to argue, I asked Sena if I could watch it as well—curiosity peaked and yearning for satisfaction—and so we sat on the couch, getting comfortable, as the BD player read the DVD. Again, I was largely unaware of our close proximity. We were shoulder-to-shoulder halfway through the home movie, which more or less depicted our families having a good time at the beach, and by the way Sena began to bob her head up and down, she was battling the urge to sleep. I felt tired as well, but I wanted to reach the end. This movie was fun to watch. A little embarrassing—seeing the many things you had done as a kid would do that to you—but it was a chapter in my life I didn't know about.

Sena and I were rarely apart throughout the times Dad or Pegasus filmed their vacation. We might've been toddlers, but there was a certain camaraderie between us that it was like we were the closest of friends. We were too young to understand that kind of concept, yet it still hit me greatly that my best friend from ten years ago wasn't really the only childhood friend I had. The bond between me and Sena as babies grew over time as well, judging from the comments the four adults would say whenever our baby selves did something adorable together like holding hands.

Our toddler years were spent growing up together, although it must've stopped when Dad advanced through his archaeological career, thus adding the need to move from city to city a couple of times. The play dates had stopped altogether from what I could guess.

All in all, the disc contained almost two hours of footage and while Sena had said to have watched this beforehand, she did admit she only got to about ten minutes into it before she stopped and decided to wake me up. This was a new experience to her as well, and the striking closeness between us a long time ago was just as shocking to her as it was to me. Without realizing, she put her hand atop of mine, her eyes glued to the screen, the glint in them clearly giving off a sense of wonder and longing, as if she wanted to reaffirm our closeness, to destroy the distance we had made through the years of being apart. Her hand was warm, soothing. A part of me wanted to let it be and continue watching the movie—the beach scenes morphed into an unknown playroom as Sena and I played with an assortment of toys in it together—and while another part of me had similar thoughts, its want extended to something more daring.

Giving into it, I rotated my hand so that it could get a firm grip on Sena's and gently, akin to a loving caress, I squeezed.

She squeaked but did not let go. She, for the first time since she pressed **Play,** looked away from the screen, finding her lap to be more interesting. She muttered something too quiet for me to hear.

We watched the rest of the movie like that, content with what this was, nervous to dare something more. I tried to keep my attention on the screen, but this sudden closeness, looking on par with budding romances, reminded me of my own track record when it came to romances, and when I was reminded of that, it made me think of Jun and the answer she was waiting for. It ruined the mood for me. Despite that, I never let go or tipped Sena off about my discomfort; one of us should stay happy, I told myself, and if she found this to her liking, why should I destroy it?

* * *

><p>"Does everyone have everything they need?"<p>

We all replied affirmatively to Stella's question as she carried a hefty bag much bigger and bulkier than when we came here. I had a good guess on what extra items she stored in it, but it was none of my business to pry and ask.

I stifled a yawn.

"Had a rough night, senpai?" Rika asked.

I shook my head. "Didn't get enough sleep, is all."

Rika hummed before saying, "Not enough sleep, you say? Then . . . Rika will be more than happy to be your lap pillow when we get to the train and—"

"Why would I use you as a lap pillow?"

Like getting hit from a sledgehammer, she crumbled. "So mean! So mean, senpai!" She dropped to her knees, one hand on her cheek, like a drama queen who had been given a powerful blow to her ego. "Rika only wishes to help, but it seems Rika is of no use to Kodaka-senpai. Sob, sob."

"You monster," Stella opined.

I could've replied, could've rebuked something, but I was too tired to even try. Instead I sighed and relented. Let them think what they wish, I was not about to play their games.

To my left, Sena covered her yawn.

Yozora looked between us, her eyes narrowing and glinting with palpable suspicion, and I tried my best to not arouse anymore of it. I repositioned the several slings on my shoulder and shifted the bags under my arms to have a better grip on them. It took a bit more effort to lift them all up without having my legs shake. I could've sworn they were lighter than this, but maybe having only gotten two or three hours of sleep might be a factor. It wasn't that the bags got heavier, it was just that I got weaker, wasn't at full strength.

Noticing my plight, Stella offered to lay off some of my burden, but I politely declined. It was my duty as the sole male (sans Yukimura because he looked too frail to try this) of the group to be the pack mule, as begrudging as that might be for me, but an unofficial duty is still a duty.

Once we made it to the train station and I finally got the chance to relax my straining muscles before I took my seat with the rest, we were forced to wait about an hour for the next train to arrive because we were late to catch the last by twenty minutes. The station, however, was not equipped with the modern conveniences of urban train stations, so the eight of us were forced to survive Mother Nature's tyrannous ball of fire reigning the blue sky above, sweat cascading down our faces as if waterfalls had been made atop our heads. Some took to the heat more tolerantly than the others—Rika, Yozora, and Kobato had it worst since they were more used to the hikikomori lifestyle, thus weren't used to such heat outside swimming for a long period of time.

That did not mean, however, everyone else felt better about this situation than the other three. They were bad, but not _as bad_ as the Terrible (looking) Three. Stella, looking like she had expected this, wore a loose-fitting cyan tank top with white Capri pants. I should note the emphasis on _loose_, but thankfully a black sports bra kept anyone from getting more than a bit of inappropriate skin to ogle from the stoic blonde. Sena wore something similar, but one could tell that they must've bought their clothes from the same store. If I hadn't known Stella was the Kashiwazaki butler, I would've pegged her as Sena's older sister. Seeing them sitting together with almost matching clothing made it more unbelievably possible except . . . except, of course, for the difference in the chest area.

"Hmm, it feels as if you are talking badly of me, Kodaka-sama."

". . . I didn't even say anything."

"But you were perhaps thinking it," she retorted.

"I wasn't. I had my mind preoccupied with something else."

"With what, may I ask?"

_Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that Sena and I were childhood friends comes to mind every time I look at her. Is that enough of a mind invader for you?_

I was about to reply when my supposed childhood friend patted me on the shoulder. "We need to talk."

I felt déjà vu when she said those words, but at the time I shrugged that feeling off.

"Mind if I take him for a few minutes?" Sena asked Stella as she waited for my answer, although it seemed like she already knew my answer before I said it.

Stella shook her head. "Not at all. Please take your time, you two."

Sena's cheeks bloomed pink. She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the exit of the station.

"Where do you think you're going, Meat?" Yozora exclaimed as she stood from her seat. Her question resounded in the relatively empty lounge room for passengers to await incoming trains, and it was only because of this place being devoid of other people than us and the one minding the ticket booth that Yozora had the gall to speak so loudly that it broke whatever conversation the rest had with each other to focus their attention on us. Specifically, Sena interlocking her arm with mine like how a couple going out in the city would do.

Sena prepared an answer beforehand and shoot it off the moment Yozora finished her question: "Getting some drinks outside. Want any?"

Yozora glared at our arms, her mouth seeming to have thought better about revealing a sneer. "Juice." No mention of flavor, though.

Like a drop of rain impending a fast approaching storm, everyone else began to fire their own requests for a refreshing drink. With this heat and the clock only slashing just fifteen minutes of our waiting, their demand was understandable.

Sena only paid close attention to the orders of Yozora and Kobato (iced lemon tea), so I had to pick up the slack when Rika asked for an energy drink, Yukimura for whatever I was having, Maria for a cola ("Not the black kind. I like the watery one better."), which I thought she meant Sprite, and Stella for water.

We stepped out of the station's shade and back into the glare of the searing sun. Sena wasted no time in going to the vending machine, digging into her pockets for her little purse. I followed her without a word.

As I perused the selection of drinks, she asked me, "What do you think we should do?"

"Hmm?"

"About, you know, knowing each other since we were little. Should we tell the others about it?"

I already had an answer to that. "Maybe not."

"Eh, why not?" She looked a little indignant, though that might just be imagination.

"It's all in the past, right." I inserted coins into the machine and selected my choice of drink. "And I don't see any reason for the others to know."

"I guess so." She mimicked my actions and selected her, Yozora's, and Kobato's drinks.

I started buying everyone else's drinks. "You sound like you don't approve. Did you _want_ to tell the others about this?"

"Well . . . yeah . . . kinda . . ." She hugged the three cans to her chest, unmindful of the cold and the water vapors forming on all surfaces of the cylinder, thus wetting the front of her top. It took a while for me to muster the willpower to look away. "I thought I'd go all 'Ha! I was friends with Kodaka a long time ago. Kyahaha!' and all that."

"What are you, ten?" I retorted, close to sighing as it was clear Sena was taking this revelation lightly. "That's as childish as racing to be the first student back in class after recess."

"So what? I wanted to at least have something to one-up that idiot."

"Is it really that important to you, one-upping Yozora?"

She nodded vigorously. "Naturally. I'll never forgive her for the humiliations I've faced."

"I think you're taking this the wrong way, though. How would us being childhood friends outdo Yozora exactly?"

"Eh? Ah, well, in . . . in the 'friends' department, yeah. We'd be able to say to her that we were once friends as children and—"

"But are we friends now, though?"

She stopped altogether. The awkward silence ensued, brought on by my blunt question.

Sena took a deep breath, looked at me right in the eye, and said, "Yeah, it's actually stupid now that I think about it. How can I boast about something in the forgotten past if it didn't really affect the present, right?" There was something hollow in her gaze, a slight higher pitch in her tone, as if she were trying to force some emotion that wanted out to stay inside. "We're . . . not friends at all, right?" Her tone took on desperation and she was biting her lower lip. She closed her eyes, looked down.

"Sena?"

"We're not, right?" she asked me, though something tells me she was not really asking me. Not completely.

"Well," I said, unsure how to proceed, only realizing now that I must've stepped on a landmine, "we barely remember what happened when we were three, and we know so little of each other. I don't think anyone would classify us as friends at this rate."

She nodded.

"I feel we might have gotten a little closer these past few days, but even that alone isn't enough."

She nodded again, subdued and defeated.

I didn't know what came over me when I said what I said, but something in my gut convinced me that it was the right thing to say, probably the only thing I really needed to say: "Which is why we should get to know each other better."

"What?" She was taken aback, she stared at me with a yelp, unknowingly showing me eyes that were slowly forming tears in the corners. Those half-formed tears stabbed me in the heart, twisting the wound ever so slowly and painfully. I never wanted to see her cry again, yet here I had been, close to doing it to her one more time. "What . . . did you say?"

"You heard what I said." I scratched the back of my head, glaring halfheartedly at the soda cans behind the glass. "If we're going to become friends again, we should . . . you know."

This speech of mine was taking a turn for the worse, despite my gut still telling me that this was the right way.

"Yeah," Sena said, smiling at me. "I know."

Her smile was contagious; I ended up smiling back and for once, someone didn't cringe when I did that.

It was a slow start for both of us, who were unsure of what this thing between us had in store in the future, but neither fear nor hesitation stopped us from having to move forward. I made a huge mistake with Jun when I tried to look away, to stay uncertain and indecisive; I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

I never once thought my decision to change would incite such a complex shit storm in the coming weeks.


	12. Jun Takes the Initiative

Date written: 21/03/13 – 06/04/13

Posted on FanFiction: 06/04/13

A/N: I had more to say, but I decided to save it for next chapter. An unexpected development appears! Haha.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 12 ––<strong>

**Jun Takes the Initiative**

Two days after our return from the camping trip, I was in my room, in the middle of finishing up my English summer homework, when my phone started ringing a catchy tune. Flipping it open, the caller ID said it was Jun, and I was hit with a feeling of anxiety. My gut stopped, dropped, and rolled, trying to extinguish a nonexistent fire burning within. As much as I wanted to avoid her, ignoring the call would do little to her determination. If she was as stubborn as she was when we were in middle school, then I was just delaying the inevitable.

"Hey Kodaka," Jun said as soon as I accepted the call and put the receiver to my ear. Her voice was joyful and bubbling with energy, despite the late hour.

"Hey Jun," I said, returning the greeting but at a less optimistic tone. I was tired and I guessed she must've sensed that.

"Did I call at a bad time?"

I stifled a yawn. "No, it's okay, it's all right. So what's up?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

That set an alarm bell. Yozora hadn't announced any club meeting and none would have any qualms if I skipped a day or two. Still, I debated over what to tell her for a while that Jun was about to ask if I was still on the line. She only got out one syllable when I answered, "Yeah, I am."

"Then . . . how about we catch a movie? I know this great theater in Tohya."

"Tohya? Wait, you're in Tohya right now?"

"Only for a few days. My family had planned a weeklong vacation in Singapore, but there had been a problem with my visa and . . . well, it's a long story. In the end, I'm staying at my aunt's place till the day before school starts."

"But two days ago—"

"Family in the countryside," she answered instantly. "I'll tell you the whole story sometime."

"Okay."

"So," she paused, and I could vividly picture her fidgeting in place, twirling a few strands of hair on her forefinger, "you wanna go?"

"What movie, though?" I reclined on my desk chair and stared at the ceiling. "I haven't been following what's showing these days."

"Oh! You'll love this one." She was gushing again. Whatever this movie was, she was quite excited about it. "It's the sequel to _The Secret Show_. Remember it?"

"No way! They actually made a sequel?!"

Truthfully that movie was over ten years old when we first heard of it and we watched it in her house on a rainy Sunday. The story planted us to the screen from beginning to end. The production value during its time was in the low to medium range, but the director had great ingenuity in presenting, and emphasizing, the story rather than the background and special effects, if there were any scenes in need of it, since this movie was a slice of life kind. Slice of life stories cater to a special minority, and one would need a special twist or flavor to really settle into mainstream where action and romance flicks were a dime a dozen. Jun and I were young and somewhat easy to impress, but the effects didn't matter to us. The emotions and events of _The Secret Show_ were what kept us till the end, and I recalled looking up a review site last year to see how the movie fared for the rest of Japan. For an indie film, it garnered over eighty percent approval from all the site's reviewers.

A sequel was just asking for some more good stuff, because Jun and I both agreed that there should be one.

She giggled, expecting such an excited response from my end. "Same director, as a matter of fact. Only this time, they're backed up by an official studio."

"You're sure this isn't some remake?"

"The director actually made it clear that this sequel can be considered stand-alone, so no one is forced to see his first film to understand or enjoy his new movie."

We talked and talked, my homework forgotten, the ease in which we shift from nervous acquaintances to old-time friends was lost to me until I was lying in my bed, a little too excited to sleep right away for what was in store in the coming day. It was amazing how easy it had been for me to reestablish the camaraderie I shared with Jun. I believed the scars I left in her heart would swear her off of me and all that involved me, but again, it seemed her stubbornness was to be admired, if not feared outright. I doubted even the best torturers and interrogators could make her sing like a canary with that sort of devotion.

The kind of devotion I had taken for granted the first time. She had been and put up with me for the two years since we've been classmates, and to just sweep under the rug the dark patch left behind by our unfinished goodbye managed to tell little of what was going on inside that girl's head. In fact, it just summoned more questions.

But she made one fact certain when we met again: she was still interested in a relationship.

I couldn't wrap my mind around that notion. It was not as if I thought her undesirable—she was far from it, to tell you the truth—it was just I had never thought of her in that way before. No, I was sure I must have at some point, buried and forgotten as the thought might be, but dismissed such a thing as wishful thinking, the kind that would only push me towards a disastrous outcome if I ever hinted it to her. To finally acknowledge that the budding feelings that plagued my younger self was mutual yet uncared for was no more than a mild blow to my emotions. Thoughts centering on what-ifs and should've-beens were piling atop my brain for the past few days, but lingering and pondering about the past, especially in this situation, was detrimental for me and her.

_It was time to move forward_, I told myself, _time to put up your hat and let go, let an old thing die. It has run its natural course, no need to burden yourself more when the other party has forgiven you._

It was all bullshit to me, though.

Jun might've forgiven me, but I haven't yet forgiven myself. I had to make things right between us. I just . . . didn't know how. Saying yes might, but I was still unsure of how I felt, and I wasn't about to begin a relationship with an old friend that might end up in heartbreak if I finally realize that it wouldn't work, that whatever attraction I felt for her when we were in middle school was gone now. It suited ill for us; that was the point. Jun didn't know that, though.

So what was I to do?

What was I to do?

* * *

><p>After a long night of tossing and turning, I greeted the morning with a giant, jaw-hurting yawn. My body felt weak and unmotivated to get out of bed, as if I had gone through a triathlon the night before, minus the muscle pain and overwhelming exhaustion. I was tired, yes, but exhaustion was a bit of an exaggeration.<p>

Still, morning duties took great priority, so I managed to slug my way out of bed, shaking away the cobwebs in my brain and covering another yawn bent on dislocating my jaw.

My date—a _casual_ date, no romantic attachments whatsoever, okay!—with Jun was planned on two o'clock when the next screening of the movie would start. We were to meet up at one, so there wouldn't be worries about lunch, although she pushed quite vehemently for us to eat together. I had to put my foot down about that because this was too out of blue for me and she was the one doing the asking, thus, should avoid pressing for too much demands.

Hours later, a few minutes before the clock strikes one in the afternoon, I was sitting by myself at a park, waiting for Jun to show up, the typical setup of a guy anxious and nervous about his first date as the clock ticked and tocked to the moment of the date's actual beginning. It was far from the truth—I was nervous, yes, but on a slightly different kind than what would normal guys be feeling. I had no plans for a romantic development, however, the other party thought otherwise, and it terrified me.

There was nothing to calm me down, and as the seconds rolled by, getting closer and closer to the mark of a new minute and eventually a new hour, I was wracked with the nerves that I looked almost silly.

"Kodaka!"

"Uoh!"

Giving that thoughtless cry out of surprise, this was how Jun and I greeted each other.

"You look tense," Jun remarked, hands on her hips, smiling radiantly as usual. Well, as usual as when we were back in middle school. The more things changed, the more they stay the same, I guess. She had gone for a very casual approach for this day, accentuating bits of makeup on her face but making it so mild and subtle that if not for the slight shine of her lip gloss when I did a look-over I might've coined the stunning effect it had on me as all natural. Her clothes consisted of a white buttoned-up blouse with three-quarter long sleeves, ripped and faded jeans reaching an inch above her ankles, and brown sandals equipped with criss-crossing straps.

"Are you given the death sentence and are about to face a firing squad in the next twenty minutes, Kodaka?"

With ease and finesse, I replied, "Depends on the final verdict. What do you think I'm in for?"

"Loitering like a smoking delinquent."

"You know, it kind of hurts that you said that with such conviction as if it were really true . . ."

She giggled. "A joke is a joke, right?"

"Your penchant for cruel jokes is something I can never get used to, I swear," I droned, but laughed heartily in the end, Jun joining with me.

There we were at the park, laughing about nothing like a pair of idiots, attracting unwanted attention yet uncaring all the same. It felt good to laugh, to ease some tension, to be out in the sunny summer day with an old acquaintance who seemed determined to make the most of the time we had together. Dates and love were the farthest things in my mind right now. I was just content that I was slowly regaining something I had lost for some time: a friend.

She checked her watch, humming and calculating. "Well, we have plenty of time before the movie starts. How about we buy our tickets first, then take a look around to pass the time?"

"Just where exactly is this theater anyway?"

"Oh it's not far. You'll see it when we get there."

"Okay," I said, sliding both hands into my pockets. "Lead the way then."

Smiling, Jun walked to my right and wrapped my arm on her.

"H—Hey!"

"Stop struggling so much," she said, sounding all calm and nonchalant as if she had no qualms about the image we were projecting for strangers to think—or about my arm getting acquainted with something soft. "Like I said, stop being so tense."

"How can anyone be calm in this situation?"

"A monk probably."

". . . I was being sarcastic."

"Who said my answer wasn't a sarcastic follow-up?"

"Anyway, can you let go of my arm?" Her boob was sliding up and down my arm as we walked, and I had this random thought that she was doing it on purpose.

She grinned. I didn't like it; ill things happen whenever she sported that kind of teeth-baring grin.

She squeezed my arm harder, pushing it deeper into her valley that it sandwiched between her breasts, and her grin remained big and _evil_ as her cheeks turned red.

We stayed like that until reaching the theater, where Jun had to reluctantly let go of my arm so she could buy us our tickets. Now before you start going on me about not being a gentleman and making the girl pay, I would like to point out that this was a date with no romantic endeavors (on my part, anyway), thus I didn't plan on being the payer of everything because _she_ was the one who asked me, _she_ was the one who decided on which theater to go to, and _she_ was adamant in being the one to pay because she had the same thought as me. In any case, to at least provide courtesy where courtesy was due, I got her to let me be the one paying for our food. It was still a little after lunch, but it didn't matter. It was often the same setup as when we used to go to cinemas before: me with just my drink, and her with her popcorn and drink combo. I'd sometimes ask for a handful of popcorn to nibble through halfway into the movie and that would be all.

There are just some people who prefer watching the movie without going stereotypical, a bucket of popcorn on one hand, a cup of soda in the other, and as the credits begin to roll, the bucket ends up empty and the cup contains only ice and both will soon be thrown into the trash can.

And so, that was how events went for us, almost like a replay of one of many cinema visits Jun and I shared during our two years together. When the lights dimmed and the white screen burst into color, packed with trailers of upcoming movies, the usual public service announcements and whatnot, and logos of the companies who had made and published the movie, conversations became nonexistent within the theater. Halfway through the movie, I'd ask for popcorn and she'd let me get a handful, and our eyes never left the screen. Not even once.

It made for a poor emotional date, but in truth I was content with what this was. The movie wasn't bad either; it definitely lived up to the expectations of viewers who had watched its predecessor, but of course that was my personal opinion on the matter.

After the movie, Jun managed to drag me to a nearby café for a bit of relaxing and talking over our favorite points of the film. We had similar likes and dislikes, so it wasn't as if I was dragged into a meaningless conversation with uncomfortable silence in between, yet for some reason it kind of felt that way. I began to notice something troubling as we moved on to other topics and after I had my second refill of coffee.

Whenever there was silence, Jun would stare into her cup, pondering over something, almost smiling hollowly until I or she had something to say. By then, the happy glint would return, but despite that, I was now disillusioned. I had no way of really knowing—my gut was screaming at me that it agreed with what was in my head—but she seemed really out of it.

"Hey, Jun," I said, curious enough to ask, because it was better to bite the bullet than regret not asking, "are you all right?"

She flinched—quite subtle, an unnoticeable twitch of the shoulders, but I had been waiting for it. She stirred her milk- and sugar-laded coffee with mindless gusto, the steady clinks of steel on porcelain ringing louder than the trivial music of talks, gossips, and discussions pervading around the café. She avoided my gaze.

"Jun?"

She didn't answer, kept stirring.

"Jun."

Stirring. Clinking. Noisy.

"Jun!"

The stirring stopped, but she neither said anything nor faced me.

"If there's something troubling you then you can talk to me," I said. "I might not be able to help much, but I can at least hear you out."

She smiled. It was hollow. "What are you talking about? I'm perfectly fine, you know."

I showed my doubt, making sure she wouldn't miss my look at all, but the moment my eyebrows began to crease and my lip curled downwards, she leveled her gaze back into her cup where the light brown color of her drink took all of her attention. The world would end and her eyes would always be inside the cup. Her life would end and the last thing she'd likely see is what was inside that cup.

I couldn't understand this sort of behavior. No . . . I _could_, in a way, but without a reason to justify this, I could offer little to no help for my old friend.

"You sure?" I asked, hoping that Jun would open up a little but most of me already believed that that hope was wasted.

She grabbed her cup and sipped it like a hurrying businessman.

"Yeah," she said, and even her voice sounded a little hollow to my ears, "I'm sure."

I was unsatisfied at the turn of events, but if she wasn't talking, what else could I do? Wring the trouble out of her mouth? That was too forceful for my taste, so the only thing left to do was drop the matter. Drop, yes . . . just not entirely.

I chugged down the rest of my coffee. I had hoped for a tasteless travel, reminiscent of tense situations in novels wherein someone's taste buds had somehow lay dormant awhile, and like before, my hope was wasted. Bittersweet.

It tasted bittersweet.

* * *

><p>We went window-shopping afterwards, moving from place to place, remarking on certain things on sale, comparing prices. We even got to talk some more and in some way, it helped take the hollowness out of Jun's expression. She needed something to distract her from those thoughts. I couldn't fault her for wanting that; I wanted the real smile back on her face, too.<p>

Time happened to fly by us and it was when the streetlights flickered to life that I noticed how much had elapsed. A glance at my watch told me it was a quarter to seven, and I pondered over whether or not to text Kobato that she should heat up some leftovers in the fridge. Well, if I hurried back and if that sister of mine was patient for a late supper, I could cook something fresh and much healthier than the leftover, which was a grease-infested dish I had cooked out of a whim the day we got back from Sena's summerhouse.

I looked over at Jun and our eyes met. She must've realized my intentions because she slid her hand on my arm and pulled me to a certain direction.

"Hey, Jun," I said, idly noting her pace had quickened since she started dragging me, "where are we going?"

She didn't answer verbally, but the district we were entering provided enough clues for me to piece together the puzzle. Night was coming shortly, and so most nightlife places began to waken. Neon signs were shining bright at our left and right, advertising services and low prices, but most were of the establishment's name. Some stuck to the classics and just show their wages, preferring to be discreet in respect of privacy for potential customers, but other establishments went the extra mile, went more modern, went in a desperate almost pitiful way, deliberately putting attention to themselves so that would-be goers could not mistake it for anything else.

Specifically, we were in a district for love hotels.

"Jun?" My voice sounded cracked, high pitched.

And she kept dragging me along.

She picked one particular windowless love hotel with the classic name of **HOTEL PASSION **in flourish cursive script. The building was painted simple white, relying on practicality and privacy as its angle in the love hotel business—at least in terms of the outside appearance. Other than the name, this was probably the most conservative building in this district.

Jun pulled me towards the entrance.

I instinctively applied pressure on my heels. "Wait wait wait wait!"

She grunted and marched on.

"Jun, what the hell are you doing?!"

She grunted again, unmindful of how little progress she was getting; I possessed more strength than her after all.

"Do you know what this place is?"

". . . yes."

"Then—"

"We're going in."

"Uh?"

Suddenly, she stopped pulling me and like a tensed string getting cut, I had to deal with my weight and gravity being all chummy and close like my butt was going to be with the concrete floor. But no sooner did I come to this conclusion at the speed of thought that Jun pulled on me again, effectively disarming my resistance and shoving me into the building.

The double doors opened as I pushed. I overstepped once, twice, before regaining my balance and taking a look around the hotel lobby. Like outside, the walls were white, even the wall lights adorning every six feet on either side, as if they were there merely to accentuate the sign of the place's purity, as if any kind of raunchy events that occur within its walls every night could not corrupt it at all. The front desk . . . no, there was no real front desk. The whole place was automated, where you select a room of your choice, its interior displayed in the small LCD screens with the room number shown on the upper right side like a channel number, and a little box below each button would deposit the room key. Little to no interaction at all between staff and client—the exact kind of privacy couples need for a night of love and lust, going at it with each other as if each new sensation in their groins was a brand new experience they wished to savor and experience again and again and again no matter how tired or sore or—

Jun took hold of my arm again and dragged us both to the rows of LCD screens. She took interest in a room, pressed the button before I could stop her, took the key, and pulled me deeper into the labyrinths of Eros. The narrow corridor was well-lit like the lobby. The doors on either side, their room numbers shown in gold against an ebony surface, felt a little intimidating for me. Sometimes we'd come across a door that had a rambunctious pair getting it on as if screaming names and yeses and comings were as part of the sexual experience as there was in the act itself. I wouldn't really know since I had never done it before, much less entered a love hotel before.

Oh dear God, was she really intending to . . . to . . . to . . . dammit, I can't even say it in my head!

There was then a cut in events, like a DVD player skipping to the next chapter. My mind was too busy processing the terrifying and nerve-wracking idea of losing my virginity without prior warning that Jun managed to escort me to our room and push me onto the bed.

My body felt a feeling weightlessness for a fraction of a second, a feeling of falling in another fraction, and even one was enough to slap me back to reality and no matter how much I tried to think this was a dream, it was real, this was reality, and I was in a love hotel with a girl. Alone.

Holy.

Crap.


	13. Revelations

Date written: 09/04/13 – 28/04/13

Posted on FanFiction: 28/04/13

A/N: Writer's block is one reason this took a bit longer than I planned for. But really, procrastination is the bigger factor here. I wish I could just strap myself onto my desk chair and type the whole day away. Screw the world! Screw the responsibilities! Screw the toilet! Screw the shower! Screw lunch and dinner! Screw everything! Just let me finish the goddamn chapter. But no, real life doesn't work that way and neither does the muse.

I have mixed feelings about this chapter, though. The idea and the premise was all clear in my head, but when I really went down to it, it all became murky and unreadable, like a camera zooming in yet losing focus. I must've lost motivation along the way (not to mention the cool new games released this month and my recent enamor with a book, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) because it took me this long to finish, yet I believe the execution is really, really sub-par and chaotic to a degree. I wish I could go back and redo the whole thing, but I fear for another bout of writer's block and procrastination delaying the schedule further, so I'll just suck it up and go forward. Who knew 13 could become an unlucky number for me now?

Anyway, we're nearing the final arc of the story. The stage just needs to be set, the drama needs to be bumped to a more noticeable level, the required characters need to take their places and help progress things along, and the inevitable confession scene between the two fated lovebirds needs to be solid and real. A lot more planning, to be sure, but I'm glad I am getting close to the final stretch. In truth, I wanted to expand the story a little more, but it seemed my interest for this story is already waning and not only that, if I don't cut the content (the unneeded and undeveloped parts, anyway) I'll be looking at a fanfic that might never reach an ending. It would just keep going on and on and on, until I reach the part where the muse no longer speaks and I'm left with an unfinished work where I have no freakin' idea how to guide it back to the ending I'd planned for it.

The usual word length for novels is probably around 60,000 to 80,000 words, so I'm already going past that limit. The end of the road here might end at 120,000 words, if I'm being conservative. If not . . . well, let's settle for 150k for now (with my luck, and word diarrhea, I might just surpass that estimate). Still, the journey will be fun and the end will satisfy you guys.

I hope at least.

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 13 ––<strong>

**Revelations**

Nervous, out of breath, confused, blushing like mad, I lay on that love hotel bed with my arms spread out, as if I were ready to give everything to the girl standing in front of me as the girl was no doubt ready to give everything to me in turn. Call me a bastard, call me an asshole, if you are set on me and Sena being together, but the moment I realized this woman in front of me looked—and I mean _really_ looked—determined to have us do it tonight, I felt happy, almost elated at the prospect.

What hot-blooded and straight teen guy wouldn't?

"Kodaka!" She dived in after me, bouncing us both on the bed twice before her head nestled contentedly on my chest like a baby hugging her mother . . . or like a woman snuggling her hubby.

"Jun," I said, somewhat wanting for this event to continue yet torn due to morals and a heavy feeling in my stomach that wouldn't go away, "we need to stop."

She stiffened in my chest—just awhile—before slithering her hands behind me, embracing me tighter. Her eyes were buried in the center of my chest, her sweet warm breath attacking my solar plexus through the thin fabric of my shirt. Her hands didn't roam after settling on my back.

"Should we?" she asked me, her voice low and desperate. "Should we really stop?"

I grabbed hold of her shoulders. For a moment, I hesitated saying this, but then that moment passed. "You've been shaking since we got here."

She stiffened again. "How can anyone not be nervous here, Kodaka? It's my first time in here."

"Which is all the more reason for us to stop." I pushed her up, breaking the embrace. "Jun, something's wrong, you're not telling me shit, and you started believing that having sex with me was a good idea."

"Why? Are you a lousy lay?"

"This is no time for jokes!" I snapped, and she flinched. I gritted my teeth and sighed through my nose, where it came out like a low wolfish growl. Anger pulsed within me, but I managed to regain control and push it back to a corner. "Jun, what happened?"

It took me a while to realize, too busy reacquainting to see that what I at first perceived as expected behavior change due to puberty (we all experienced this once or twice during our teen years, one year we like peanut butter and think Nutella is a stupid idea for a spread, the next year we love Nutella and peanut butter never tasted the same and we wonder to ourselves why this was so or why we ever liked it in the first place) was actually a problem or two burdening her feelings. It got so bad that she was now prone to irrational decision-making, one of which was taking us into a love hotel and expect I'd let her do what she decided upon.

Why I was angry escaped me at the time, but hindsight provided everything: I was mad because she had _changed_. Not in a good way. And it was putting her through an emotional roller coaster ride where near the end the tracks are detached, just waiting for the carts to come along and crash.

Jun had always been headstrong and determined. Complement that with her stubbornness and she was practically unstoppable once she decided on something. It'd usually take me fifteen minutes to convince her out of the few bad decisions she had thought of, but this recent incident only needed a few questions to destroy her confidence. And I knew why.

She made this decision herself . . . but her heart wasn't in it.

She was hesitating. She wanted this but was confused, needed me but looked torn about something. I had a bad feeling, a foreboding feeling, that I might not like the end of this situation but would have to soldier on anyway, unless I liked seeing Jun looking like a lost lamb. Was I callous enough to really like that look in her face? It didn't even take a second to think of an answer.

"Jun," I said, releasing the hard grip I'd been putting on her shoulders, "please. Talk to me."

I saw her grit her teeth. Her shoulders, now free of my hands, trembled. With a growl akin to a lioness, she pounced on me, pushing me back onto the bed and before I could get my bearings, she planted her lips firmly on mine. I struggled, she didn't relent. In truth, it seemed my attempts of getting off her made her mad. She pinned my arms and deepened the kiss.

Her lips were warm, her tongue intoxicating as it slimed its way around the base of my lower gums. My spine tingled. A groan escaped me, revitalizing the lustful hunger lurking within Jun and her actions which were also having a scary effect on me. By chance, Jun brushed her groin on my own and giggled to herself within my mouth. I was both mortified . . . and got aroused tenfold.

My system was on overload. The sensations were getting to my head, making it hard to think, making it so easy to just let go and enjoy the experience. All it took was a second of carelessness to release the hungry beast lurking within me as well.

And a second was all Jun needed. I snapped. I retaliated, returning the kiss with such vigor and strength that for a moment, she was stunned at my forwardness. I found the strength to get out of her hold and reversed our positions, me on top of her, momentarily staring at the thread of saliva bridging our lips together like the red string of fate. She embodied sex and allure, her blushed cheeks so red and radiant, her luscious lips so puffy and kissable, her half-lidded eyes so dazed and enchanting. I wanted to defile her, wanted to make her mine, wanted to do every dirty deed that I could think of to her. I was out of control, so to speak, but Jun acted like she wanted this with all her heart. If I had not been so adamant at savoring the sight of a still pure and untouched woman before I went all out, things might have gone a whole lot differently. It was bad from the start and with the way things were going, it might've gone worse in a hurry, so I was thankful for my cellphone vibrating in my pocket before I had my mind set on a task that it'd go 'To hell with that distracting text!' and ignore it.

My hand instinctively fished it out and I was in the middle of flipping it open when Jun asked me why I stopped. She only needed a cursory glance at me to answer her own question. She frowned at the device.

With my mind still kind of dizzy from the unimaginable pleasure I had endured (enjoyed would be a more truthful summation), I had these fleeting thoughts about reading the email once, putting the phone on silent before discarding it, and then indulging again on the finer things of being together with the opposite sex. But such thoughts left the moment I saw the name of the sender.

_Sena_

It was a picture message. The lighting was a little low and the exposure lackluster and her shadow was mostly the reason for why the photo was dark, but I could tell she was teeming with energy that she couldn't wait for tomorrow to come so she could show me another baby picture of us when we were kids.

_I found this in one of our old family albums. Aren't I cute? :D_

The two of us were playing with blocks in a playroom, me in the jersey shirt Dad said was my favorite and Sena in a pink dress with her hair done in cute twintails.

_Papa already knew about us knowing each other since we were little, you know. Seriously, why didn't he at least mention it to me once? I would've been better prepared if I had known beforehand . . . What do you think, Kodaka?_

So Pegasus knew but decided not to tell us. Well, I could understand a bit of his character, so maybe he didn't bother informing her was because either he believed his daughter already knew of it—she's practically equipped with dozens of photographic evidence in her baby years and, as begrudging as it is to admit it, my hair color is unique enough to rule me as the boy in those pictures—or he wanted us to figure this all out on our own, that there must be some corner in our brains that treasured the times we'd spent together and all that dark corner needed was a small shade of light for it to awaken and bombard us with revelations upon revelations. I had trouble concluding which was more likely, though.

Hmm? It would seem Sena included a postscript:

_By the way, Kodaka, can we get married?_

I did a spectacular spit-take, coughing up a storm as Jun looked on worriedly.

"Wha—what the hell?!" I shouted to the phone, blushing as if red was my face's natural skin color. "Why would she—"

I received another text from Sena.

_That wasnt me that was stella! dont beleive it!_

Okay, now it made more sense. I heaved a long sigh. Honestly that woman was relentless! Did she get off from seeing the two of us squirm like fishes out of water? I didn't know how many more aggravating stunts I can take from that insufferable woman.

"Kodaka," Jun called, derailing me out of my train of thought, "who was that?"

"Oh, uh . . ." I hastily closed my phone and pocketed it. "Just someone texting a prank, that's all." It was not a lie; Stella was indeed having me on. I turned off my phone; I didn't want Sena making a call to further clarify her innocence.

She raised an eyebrow. "It seemed more shocking than a mere prank."

"Well, it's a prank regardless." The lustful energy I had exhibited prior to the interruption had dissipated entirely, leaving me with a feeling that was part shame and guilt. I knew it was unbearable for a hot-blooded male like me to reject the advances of a beautiful strong-willed woman, I knew this event was done with mutual consent, but my heart was torn and heavy. My stomach was rolling and my hands were clenched like vises turned as tight as they could go.

I looked at Jun, the redness in her lips more profound after our intense lip-locking. And she looked at me, her eyes expressing a thousand words from a half-second glance that left me feeling like I had better not lie, I had better not deceive her, I had better not go with the flow and just say what needed to be said. Words were forming in my head. My mouth was preparing for a speech with no need of a squeaky voice or a dry throat. My heart was hammering in my chest like a caged animal gone rabid. The AC in this place was going at full blast, but the recent activities left me sweating hot at first but the beads exposed to the air and attached to my skin had turned cold and more of them were forming as the uncomfortable silence between us continued.

I swallowed a mouthful of saliva, which did squat about my parched throat, and scooted away from Jun till my feet touched the carpeted floor. I broke eye contact during that and when I turned to look at her again, she was facing the opposite way, trying to fix the disheveling I had done to her clothing when we were lost in the throes of dominating the other through kisses.

"Maybe this was a bad idea, after all," she admitted, smiling sardonically, almost melancholically.

"Jun, I . . ." I stopped. Whatever words I wanted to say, they were not with me now. My lips stopped, my voice disappeared, my brain forgot. I just sat there, a tongue-tied idiot who honestly had nothing to say to the woman next to him.

"I'm sorry about this, Kodaka." Pained was how I could describe her then. The way her face scrunched, fighting back the tears she would never dare to let out in my presence, was all the sign I needed to scoot back into the bed, grab her hand with gentle care, and look her right in the eye. She tried and failed to destroy the eye contact. "I'm sorry," she said again, believing if she could keep her eyes closed then she wouldn't need to look at me, "about all this. I just . . . I just don't know what to do anymore."

"How about you start from the beginning." My other hand moved to caress her face, rubbing a thumb on the corner of her eyes. "Tell me what you can."

"But—"

"_But_ nothing! You look like you need to get this off your chest. I'm willing to listen, but are you willing to talk?"

I saw hesitation in her—the way she moved her head to the side and then used her shoulder to rub her eyes again—but only for a moment. As soon as the words began to flow, the dam gradually collapsed.

* * *

><p>"There's this guy I know," she said, "and we go way back. His name is Tomoya Ouma. He was a childhood friend before his family moved away when we were seven. Then they moved back to their old home almost a year after you left. He and I reconnected, you could say." She smiled but, like how her eyes had been whenever she drifts to a memory that unsettled her, it was hollow. "But he changed. I was too blind to see it, then, but he honestly changed.<p>

"He fell into some bad circles, the bullying kind. He joined up with them and, according to him, found his calling. I didn't know about this side of him until recently. We never spoke to each other afterwards. That was last month. Going back to the time when he returned to Kyushu, he was still fun to be around and he never showed anything but a smile whenever I was with him. Two sides of the same coin, right? On one side, all I see is a handsome face with a dazzling smile it makes my stomach twirl; on the other side, there's the angry look with the unsettling sneer, the look other kids all know and hate. Same person, different perspective.

"He was really good in keeping that side of him a secret from me. When other people tell me he was a bully, I ignored them. I did that for you, too, didn't I?"

She did. Her friends always tried to distance me away from her because they believe they were doing it for Jun's own good, but I was not whom they thought I was. Jun saw that, our other classmates didn't, so why should this old friend of Jun's be any different? She thought of that and inevitably shrugged away the accusations coming at him. The picture was slowly forming and I disliked it from the start.

"I thought he was the same case," she continued. "But I was blind to the signs. I was even blind to his dyed blond hair because the school didn't really ban students from doing that—they cross the line when it's something outrageous, though, like green dye. By the time I began to suspect something, he asked me out, and the suspicion went"—she made a popping sound with her lips, a diving motion with one arm that was followed by her saying WHOOSH—"down the drain."

My eyes widened. She smiled.

"I was smitten enough with him to say yes," she said.

"But why?" The question came out before I could reel it in. I clamped down on my mouth too late, my face grimacing.

She sighed. "Kodaka . . . the last time I asked someone out was you and it hurt me. This time was different because _I_"—she stabbed her chest with her finger twice—"was not the one opening my heart and hoping that the other receives it with a yes. I'd be lying if I denied seeing Tomoya attractive, much more if I said I was over you. If I wanted to get over you, I had to let you go completely . . . so I accepted him and we dated till I saw the other side of the coin."

That would explain her expertise in kissing. I was merely going with the flow and responding to her reactions.

"Did you . . . did you two go all the way?"

Jun smacked my shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!"

"That's what you get for being so blunt and rude!" She shook her fist at me, her face angry as a bull seeing red, but it immediately dissipated once she lowered her hand. "And I'm not answering that question."

"Sorry," I murmured.

"You better be. Anyway, we dated for a while. I was happy, he was happy, the world was beautiful. All that sunshine and roses thing. But it was like a dream, you know." She showed her palm to me. It was pinkish, soft, and free of calluses. "And a dream is but one side of a coin. Heads or tails? Light or dark?" She rotated her hand so I could see the back of it, and almost as if to accentuate the theme of duality, this side had darker skin and was far from unblemished. From the forefinger's knuckle to the spot midway between her pinky's knuckle and wrist, a small diagonal scar was visible, one she had gotten from an accident during a summer trip through the forest when she had an unfortunate brush with a discarded, rusting tin can. "Dream . . . or nightmare?"

Her voice gave me a chill, and I had that dangerous sense of reverse déjà vu, a feeling that there was a deciding factor that could pivot my whole life to a different direction. Divergence in the path, a matter of choice that affects the present. Unexplainable, ruthless, sadistic, the feeling caged me to where I sat, morphing me to become a full-on spectator to the deepening story Jun was telling. There was no room for questions, only ears that needed to listen. And so I did.

"I know it sounds like I'm building up the story for some heart-wrenching climax, and I am. I just want you to be prepared for that. The whole dreamworld came crashing down one day when Tomoya's bullying went a little too far and his victim tried and failed to commit suicide."

My eyes widened. "Suicide?!"

"Jumped off the school's roof at the end of lunchtime," she said clinically, as if she had told this story a dozen's time before that it already lost its shock value. "He only survived because he leaped forward instead of just stepping off the edge. If not for that, he would've been kissing concrete. His fall met with a nearby tree, and apart from some broken ribs, scratches, and a dislocated shoulder, he was okay.

"The school cooperated with the police and they kind of pressured him to explain why he wanted to die. He immediately pointed at Tomoya. Tomoya denied it, of course, but he didn't have the support of the school. He only had his parents and me . . . for a time. But soon, when the police began to investigate into his behavior, interviewing classmates and passing acquaintances, his secret life came to light."

She sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I didn't know what to think. He was my boyfriend! But the evidence kept stacking against him. My classmates began to speculate that he might eventually be charged with attempted murder, but getting bullied into committing suicide contains loopholes for bullies to worm their way out of criminal charges. His father may have also called in favors from the government to lessen, if not remove, the sentence. Almost a month after, the charges were dropped and he came back to school a week later. He should've been expelled, but he was saved from that, I don't know how.

"I thought I'd be happy, thought I was shallow enough to reserve that emotion in my heart once he waltzes into the classroom as if the past month meant nothing to him and his reputation. My heart felt nothing. The student body became more wary of him, including me. There was no happiness in him coming back. I wanted to stick with him for at least a little longer, to try and change his ways, but I already knew deep down that I was going into denial again. That had to stop."

"So you broke up with him," I concluded for her.

"He didn't take it well. It almost came to blows if not for a teacher intervening. I almost wished Haruka-sensei had been late for a few more seconds. If she had, then Tomoya would've been given a reason to be expelled. Punching a woman, enough to get a black eye, would be enough of a reason, right? He was kind of in probation now, and one more offense would land him in the principal's office having his permanent record signed for expulsion."

"Jun . . ."

"Then summer vacation started and I ended up meeting you again. And . . ." She gestured to the whole room. "Here we are now, I guess." She chuckled. It sounded awful. "I'm a despicable woman, you know. I started to love Tomoya so I could get over you; now I'm trying to love you again so I could get over Tomoya. I don't . . . I don't know why, but I still love him." Tears cascaded her cheeks. "It's stupid and idiotic, and though it should be like my heart had wiped everything away, I still love the guy to death."

And there it was, the reason laid bare. My reaction to it? I was unsure. I felt out of place, numb and unable to comprehend everything right after the end of the tale. I needed more time to process this, but I also wanted to respond right away. By the time she finished, she went silent, turning her attention inwards, imprisoning her own awareness to mimic the actions of someone digging a hole and hiding in it. Reality became too unbearable for Jun right now, and if this mental imprisonment could temporarily separate her from grim thoughts and the harsh reality of it all, then hesitation did not factor into the decision.

She looked scared and uncertain to me. I couldn't turn my back on a crying woman, especially one I had owed so much from those black, friendless days. She was in need of consolation, as I had once in need of a hand to guide me out of the darkness I had enclosed myself in, and though my social skills were as empty as a glass with a drop of water, I did what I could because it was better than her crying alone.

I hugged her gently, not wanting to intrude and giving enough time for her to reject me if she wished, and she embraced me, her face pressing onto my chest which muffled her cries. I rubbed her back the same way I had done to Kobato whenever she bawled her eyes out. It was a start, I guess.

"I'm not mad, you know."

Her hug got tighter, her cries got louder.

There were still plenty of things to resolve, and we had to talk this all out somehow, but for today, what she needed most was rest. She had been through enough emotional instability for today—I could tell that she was in dire need of reassessing not just herself but also what she thought of the people in her life. I hoped she could honestly think things through, because I really wanted my friend back, all happy but realistic, serious but not strict. And there was also the confession we had to straighten up. That probably couldn't wait.

"Jun," I said, licking my lips, hoping that I wouldn't lose my nerve after coming this far, "about my answer to your confession."

"I already know," she interjected, and laughed into my moist shirt.

"Eh?"

Her voice was muffled, but I could still understand what she said: "You're in love with someone else, aren't you?"

"Huh? Could you speak up? I didn't quite hear that."

Jun stopped hugging me, looked me right in the eye, and repeated those six dangerous words. "You're in love with someone else."

"What? I—I—I don't know what you're talking about." I gazed away. Her stare proved too forceful to retain eye contact for long periods, and that was the only reason for it. There was no other, yes, no other reason. Definitely.

"Could she be someone in your class?"

I didn't react.

"In your school?"

My jaw rose, overlapping my upper lip with the lower, and a tiny pathetic sound grunted out of my mouth.

"In the same year as you?"

"Jun . . ." I warned.

"Or maybe a senpai or kouhai?"

"Stop it already." I buried my face in my hands. "I have enough trouble with Rika. I don't want another woman prying into my love life." _Or rather, the lack of one._

"Oh, so her name's Rika, huh?"

"Uh, no. You're misunderstanding. She's just a clubmate."

"Is the one you love also your clubmate?"

I stiffened and the reason for that was lost to me. What the hell was wrong with me?

* * *

><p>I managed to placate Jun from asking any more confusing questions, but I could see that she was still burning with curiosity. It was calmed for now but sooner or later it would return, bearing fangs as it resumes its onslaught. I had to prepare for that inevitability. Right now, though, there was a more urgent crisis on my hand and no amount of delaying tactics or backup plans could hope to reduce the fallout if ever things took a turn for the worse.<p>

I was fighting the biggest problem of the night: exiting a love hotel with a girl.

Jun and I just talked things out and no raunchy event occurred at all inside that room (minus the make out). When we were halfway through the hallway, a lovey-dovey couple exited their own room, clinging to each other like lovesick loons. They spotted us and we looked at them with a kind of caution and uncertainty akin to how a pickpocket and a bank robber might do coming across each other while escaping from their respective police force. The guy looked to be in college, his girlfriend in high school, the same year as Rika and Yukimura. I could be wrong, though; the girl might be older than she looked.

Of course, it should've occurred to me this was a love hotel and did not cater to a couple one at a time, so the chances of bumping into another couple were high enough to be a common sight for love hotel goers. But what made this the most awkward meeting of all was that I remembered which room I had heard the loud cries and moans. I couldn't look the girl in the face, no matter how hard I tried. I hoped that if they saw me blushing like crazy, they would assume I felt embarrassed about being seen inside this establishment.

Jun, sociable and able to break the ice with a serial killer with ease, waved a salute to the girl. "Yo," she said.

Smiling, the girl returned the salute, hooked her arm around her boyfriend's, and, with a bright and blinding grin, winked at the both of us. "Come on, Yuu-kun!"

The guy laughed, didn't mind being manhandled back to the lobby.

That was just one couple being witnesses to my presence here with a girl and already I was shaking like a rattlesnake's tail, my knees experiencing double the power. I composed myself the best I could, but with the way things were, I required some walking assistance to the front door, so Jun hooked her arm with mine and gave her support. The image we were enforcing to anyone seeing us did not escape, but I was powerless to do anything, unless I prefer kneeling next to a wall until enough calm had seeped into my legs to try walking normally again.

We paid for the room (splitting the bill, of course) with no words exchanged between us, and we exited the building with my breath held and my eyes darting at every corner, every shadow, every gazer. I calmed down once we reached the corner and out of sight of the love hotels in that street. It was also the time I realized Jun never let go of my arm.

We parted ways when we reached the train station. She was staying with family on the other side of town.

"I was lying, you know," she said, looming next to the ticket booth, with her train card in hand, "about the visa thing."

"Japanese don't need to apply for a visa to go to Singapore, right?"

Her surprise was apparent for anyone who looked. "You knew?"

"My uncle is a frequent flyer"—he wasn't really my uncle, but better not complicate things—"and we once had a discussion about visas. I knew you were lying from the beginning."

"But you didn't call me out on it . . ."

"Because I know you, Jun." I smiled and scratched my head. "I know that whenever you lie, there is a very good reason for it."

"I guess. I decided to stay here when mom and dad planned the trip to Singapore. They knew about the disastrous conclusion of my relationship with Tomoya, so they thought vacationing out of the country would be cathartic for me. They were also worried about letting me stay unsupervised here."

"How did you convince them?"

"Trade secret." She made the gesture for silence, smiling all the while.

Her mirth was contagious, and I ended up chuckling.

"Well, this is where we part ways," she said, moving over to the entry gate. She looked back at me and said, "I had fun today. Let's do it again sometime, okay?"

_Without the love hotel visit this time, please. _"Definitely."

"Bye, Kodaka!"

I waved goodbye, watching her disappear into the crowd, before I went to my train. I was a little exhausted and completely skipped dinner (_Will Jun be okay? Will she be eating out or something?_), so I made a pit stop at a nearby Kiosk and bought a bottle of cold milk tea. It'd spoil my supper plans, but I didn't give a damn. My stomach was grumbling, the junk food on sale made me sick, and this was the only alternative. Better to make the most of what I had.

* * *

><p><em>She picked up her phone again, dialed his number, waited for the ringing, and, by now, expected the automated voice telling her that the number she was calling could not be reached. Frustration nagged at her, but what could she do? It was not as if she could go out now and talk to the pudding head face-to-face. Well, at least the misunderstanding was averted, in no small part to her perfectly timed intervention before Stella texted more scurrilous messages to him.<em>

"_And how does asking him if you two can get married be considered abusively vulgar, Sena-sama?"_

_She jumped. When she looked over her shoulder, the scrutinizing eyes of the blonde butler looked sharp and ready to pierce her at any time she wished. And she had no doubts that Stella would even do it; the woman held nothing back when it came to a scolding. She even had a few scars on her butt to prove it._

"_Phantom pains," Stella said, "nothing more."_

"_Stop reading my mind already, Stella!"_

"_I do not read minds, my dear. Just faces."_

"_The way you are so specific in your readings put a lot of doubt in me."_

"_That makes you and Kodaka-sama on the same page, then."_

"_Oh! And don't think you're off the hook." She pointed a finger at her, scrutinizing eyes be damned. "There is a limit to how much of my privacy you can pry, and using my cellphone without my expressed permission is inexcusable."_

_Stella bowed. "I deeply apologize for the breach in trust, Sena-sama, but if I do not jumpstart things on your behalf, you'll graduate from high school a virgin."_

_Her cheeks were hot. _God, why is she so damn blunt? _"Tha—that doesn't concern you. Mou!" She crossed her arms, looking away, and huffed. "If that happens, I'll just save myself for marriage."_

"_So you'll abstain with Kodaka-sama until the wedding night?"_

"_That's rig—hey, why did you make it sound like we're d-d-d-d-dating already?!"_

"_The more you speak of it, the more it feels plausible to occur."_

_She thought of her and Kodaka, holding hands, laughing together, embracing each other, nearing their lips till they were inches apart, quarter of an inch apart, almost touching—_

_She slapped her cheeks and shook her head with vigor._

"_Stop giving me funny ideas!"_

"_I am not at fault of that," Stella retorted. "You only have yourself to blame."_

"_Whatever! And if you're really trying to help, wasn't proposing right off the bat a little extreme?"_

_The steward tilted her head. "It's not really extreme if it's the truth, is it not?"_

_Her thoughts came to screeching halt. Something . . . something about that question didn't sit right with her. "What do you mean?"_

"_It is better for your father to tell you this himself."_

"_Why? Why not tell me now?"_

"_Is that an order?" Stella cocked an eyebrow, and though her face remained poker-qualified, she could tell that this was the only way for the steward to reveal some well-guarded secret her father wished to tell her at some point in the future._

_She never really liked being out of the loop; she nodded._

_Stella delivered a crushing bombshell: "Pegasus and Hayato Hasegawa-sama had written up a marriage contract for you and Kodaka-sama when you both were just three years old. In other words, you two are betrothed to each other."_

_It took a while for her to process that. And was coming around to accept that her Papa might've done something like that when she was too young to remember._

_Her cellphone thought it was the right time to ring. The caller—Kodaka._

"_HELLO?!"_

"_Ow! Sena, I can hear you just fine."_

"_S-S-S-SORRY!"_

_She heard a grunt from the receiver and a few unclear mutters. "Anyway, sorry for not replying sooner. I was a little caught up on something."_

"_It's okay, just be sure to understand the circumstances, got it?" She tried to sound assertive, but in reality her legs were shaking and she kept biting her lip every time it was his turn to speak. The betrothal contract haunted her and her thoughts, conjuring images of her in a wedding dress and Kodaka in a matching white tux, watching on as she walked the aisle arm-in-arm with her father. The kind of Western wedding she had sometimes dreamed of when she was a child._

_She didn't realize that the thought felt okay to her, that she found it kind of nice. At first._

_She happened to glance upon her vanity mirror and saw the easy smile on her face, the way it glowed and dazzled on her mouth with carefree abundance floored her to the spot. Kodaka was speaking on the line, but it was white noise to her. Her face was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than before, and didn't those side characters in galge used to say that beauty in a woman truly blossoms when they're with the person they love. Sure, he was not there in person, but they were talking to each other right now. Did that mean something?_

_Her glance hovered over to the background in the mirror, where Stella, somehow aware of her thoughts (every single time that it's already to the point of creepy), smiled with radiant warmth like a mother seeing her child all grown up. And there she knew and understood. She knew and understood just as Stella knew and understood how hard she fell._

I got it bad_, she thought, looking away from the mirror. _Really bad.

"_Hey Sena, you there?"_

"_Hwah! Uh, yeah, I'm here."_

"_You didn't listen to a word I said, did you?"_

"_Huh, what do you mean? Of course I was."_

_They continued the conversation a little longer, and by the time she finally hung up and called it a night, Stella had pulled out her negligee from the closet and gotten out of the room. There would be plenty of time to interrogate her and Papa in the morning. For now, she needed to think more on the arranged marriage and what it meant for her and Kodaka._

_On that matter, if what Stella said was true—and there was no reason for her to lie—then how could she break the news to him? How would he take it? Angry or elated?_

_It was hard to sleep that night; her thoughts were too fixated on what response Kodaka might give._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

One benevolent but anonymous reviewer informed me in the last chapter that you don't need a visa to go to Singapore. This is not entirely the truth, as far as I know. There are certain countries wherein you really _do_ need a visa to get in the country. The situation with Japan, however, is already explained in this chapter. I've already known about this from the get-go.

Do you know how freakin' _HARD_ it was to not spoil some stuff from Haganai CONNECT? I mean, the last scene is quite dialogue heavy between Sena and Stella, and the revelations from the spinoff light novel keep springing at the forefront of my thoughts, so my fingers involuntarily go for the spoilers without hesitation. It'd be better if I had an inkling of how many readers here actually know of the relationship between Sena and Stella. Granted, I never read CONNECT so I can't be pinpoint precise about their dynamics, especially when it comes to private dialogue between the two, but I am trying to fill in the blanks here. So if it comes off as more AU elements, then so be it. I can't stop that from happening no matter what. The alternative would be to completely remove any mention of their relationship between one another—keep it strictly Master-and-Servant-like—but that just seems utterly wrong for me, but do I really have a choice if I don't want to spoil some of the readers who have not yet known about Stella's origins? What do you guys think? In this particular case: To spoil or not to spoil?


	14. An Unforgettable Summer Night (I)

Date written: 30/04/13 – 15/02/14

Posted on FanFiction: 16/02/14

Revised and Included a longer A/N: 24/02/14

* * *

><p>–– <strong>CHAPTER 14 ––<strong>

**An Unforgettable Summer Night (I)**

My watch told me that it was nearing seven in the evening. The sun had long since sunk under the horizon, bathing the skies of Tohya city with midnight blue. The moon was as whole as the sun, but, as always and as it should be, not as bright. The streetlights lining the street across each side of the bookstore were lit on, but they were like afterthoughts compared to the summer light banners adorning the whole shopping district. It definitely emphasized the feel of summer, and though we were still far from the festival proper, it felt as if I could smell the takoyaki from here.

"Neh, neh, senpai," Rika called, grabbing my attention away from the festival's general direction, "what do you think of the outfit Rika is wearing?"

A rare sight was in front of me. Out of the baggy lab coat she had worn ever since I had met her and into a cute purple yukata with an old-fashioned artistic rendition of flowers decorating about the fabric and held together by a yellow obi, she really stood out among her clubmates because this was such a drastic change. Not to mention how she let her hair down.

"Does Rika look good?" she asked, touching her cheek.

I nodded. "Yeah. You can actually pull it off when you try!"

Her eye twitched. "Well . . . Rika will just consider that a compliment," she deadpanned. "Should've expected that. Really should have."

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Hmph!" She crossed her arms. "Nothing at all."

"Oh, okay."

"It's a little frustrating how uninterested you are."

Her words were too quiet to really hear, so I decided to drop whatever curiosity I had and turn my attention to the others. My eyes widened when I saw Yukimura. A maid outfit, I could understand, because Yozora tricked him into wearing it. A two-piece, I could also understand, because it was also a suggestion from Yozora, and the alternative would've been a fundoshi. But a female yukata?! And not only that, it looked so damn good on him that nobody—and I mean _nobody_—would think of him as a man. I was in the middle of a conundrum due to this: the Yukimura I know is a guy, a guy, a guy, a guy, a guy, a guy, a guy, yet the Yukimura I was seeing looked like a girl, a girl, a girl, a girl—

STOP!

That was close. My brain almost overloaded.

"Uh, Yukimura," I said, regaining my bearings, and pointed at his outfit, "why are you wearing that?"

He blushed and looked down. Goddammit, why does this trap have to be so irresistible?!

"Does it look horrendous on me, Aniki?"

"Actually no." I scratched the back of my head, eyeing him up and down. "I'm more surprised that it looks so natural on you. Almost as good as Rika."

The two people in question blushed harder, Rika giving a tiny squeak as she turned away from me again. From the corner of my eye, I could see Yozora scowling. Was she perhaps jealous . . . that she wasn't wearing a yukata as well?

"Well," she said, looking at all of us, "now that everyone's here, let's go."

"Yozora-senpai, Sena-senpai isn't here yet."

"So? I already said everyone's here."

Ouch. The enmity was almost tangible. Rika wisely dropped the question.

Yozora headed towards the festival proper and we were still unsure whether or not she was just kidding about earlier, but somehow understood in our heart of hearts that, yes, she was completely serious about leaving Sena in the dust. Unfortunately for her, the busty blonde of our group arrived just in time to hear what was said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, stupid Yozora?"

Sena was also garbed in a yukata, a dark bluish flower-laden ensemble held together with a red obi. Her hair was done up in a high ponytail with her trademark blue butterfly ornament acting as the tie. Her face held a scowl, its annoyance directed solely on Yozora, and if this were an anime you could see, rather than just sense, the lightning glare radiating between them. But other than that, my observation of Sena's whole outfit was . . . was . . . gah, it was impossible for me to think straight. She was just so dazzling, and though she had the look of a foreigner, she fit into the traditional Japanese clothes so well that blood was gushing up my cheeks. And my eyes wanted to keep looking at her.

I was hit in the head a moment later by Yozora.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing at all," she replied and then walked away.

"Hey!"

She ignored me.

"What's up with her?"

"Senpai no baka," Rika drawled before following Yozora.

"Eh? You too, Rika?" I stood there, stunned, watching the two girls' backs going farther into the distance. "What did I do?"

"Who knows," Sena said nonchalantly, but I spotted the quiver in her lips, as if she were doing her best to not smirk. "Let's go."

Feeling like I'd just missed something very important, I followed the others without a word or a complaint while rubbing my aching head.

* * *

><p>I never thought I'd end up wearing a yukata of all things to the festival. When was the last time did I wear one anyway? Hmm, was it when I was four?<p>

Well, failed recollections aside, the mirror in front of me showed a slightly intimidating figure, and it was not the kind of aura I had intended in the first place. This was the best-looking yukata I saw in this rental shop's collection—I liked it the most too—but what I expected to make me look my best clashed with cruel reality. I almost wanted to cry.

But it was not all bad; Kobato got into her own yukata and she really liked it. Now if only the pedo-lezzy girl cooing and drooling all over her would stop creeping the both of us out. The store clerk, an all-smiles brunette in her twenties, seemed to have experience with strange customers like us, looking not at all fazed by a blonde foreigner with an obsessive fixation on who looked to be her little sister (except Kobato was not her but my little sister) and a, what Sena termed, "someone who looks like a certain guy on the news who went crazy at a coming-of-age ceremony." Kobato looked to be the most normal of us, despite her pseudo-heterochromia still in place.

"An-chan," Kobato called, gazing down at her clothes and doubling her efforts to ignore the 'Kawaii!' mantra Sena began to spout, "how do I look?"

I smiled and patted her head affectionately. "It looks great."

"Really?"

"Really. Most definitely." I tried my best to ignore Sena's creepy giggles in the background.

"By the way, Kodaka," Sena said, somehow converting from crazy to sane in an instant, "you . . . never really thought of dyeing that hair of yours, do you?"

My voice turned solemn as I put my hand on my hair. "It's not a question of whether I thought about it or not. You already know why I never dared to dye it black."

On that night at her mansion, we talked the night away. At some point, she ended up asking me why I persisted with the color of my hair if I was so desperate (her words) in finding a friend. It would have been better, she advised, that I dye it so I wouldn't be mistaken as a delinquent so frequently. I answered that question as best as I could and she never brought it up again. This hair of mine was the only thing I inherited from Mom, unlike Kobato, who took after her a whole lot. My memory of her was already fading—and the only thing really keeping it alive were the few pictures we had of her . . . and my hair.

Every time I look in the mirror, I see those strands of blond on my head, and I immediately think, 'This was from my mother.' Before she died, she was my and Dad's whole world. Kobato was too young to really understand much, but even she was affected by it somewhat, because whenever Mom was there, she never cried. We revolved around her; she was the sun of our solar system. Everything felt great when she was around, and though all I could remember were hazy images, the feelings captured in those moments never really disappear. They resonated like a machine activating its reserve battery. My feelings then were of insurmountable happiness. Happy to be alive, happy to be there, happy to see her smile, happy to have her hug me, happy to have her love me. To destroy the only link between us was impossible for me to consider. I would think of it, yes, but never consider. Never at all. I'd concede if I end up going bald, because that situation is out of my hands, but willingly covering up the blond hair with black was a different story.

She stayed silent for a moment before saying, "Yes. She must've been a great mother."

"Yeah, she was," I murmured, absently noting Kobato sliding her hand on mine, trying to provide comfort whichever way she could. "How about your mother?"

"What about her?" Her eyes darted to the side.

"Come on, now, you know what I mean. You never really talk about your mother at all, other than the bare essentials anyway."

"And what else is there to ask?" she retorted, her tone going defensive all of a sudden.

"You could at least tell me a story about you and her."

"But what if there's no story at all? What then?"

"Eh?"

". . . never mind." She turned her back to me, facing the exit. "The others are waiting. Let's go."

Her tone had taken a drastic turn, emanating a sort of arctic chill that left me stunned, rooted to where I stood, but only for a second. Instincts somehow took in and I followed Sena out, still holding onto Kobato's hand but she had to tell me that my grip was getting too tight and painful.

The others had already gone ahead, so the rest of the way—from the crowded streets to the long stairways leading to the shrine and the festival proper—was just the three of us, but we were all quiet. A barrier had been erected where it shouldn't have been in before, and any attempts I tried to make were swept back into the drawing board before they could see the light of day. I opened my mouth during our walk dozens of times to ask some questions, but the more it lingered in my head, the less I felt inclined to vocalize it. There was just something in Sena's gaze that made me hesitate. She was being elusive about the topic, I knew that much, and my curiosity was peaked, but did I really want to risk the shaky relationship I was in with her for a simple question I could ask later on when she was comfortable about the subject with me?

_I forced some answers out of Jun, though_, my mind had the gall to opine, right when I was about to come to a decision. _If it worked on her, then shouldn't it also work on Sena?_

It sure could. But then again, it could also end up blowing up in my face . . .

* * *

><p>I took the coward's route and kept my silence, in the end.<p>

I kept telling myself that I'd eventually come to it once Sena was more comfortable with the topic, but with the way things were going I doubt I'd be able to wring some answers out of her within the year. It was not feeling at all, it was a fact, and it was a fact I had to contend with for the rest of the night. Thankfully, my mind found recycling the same thought over and over, while easily the kind of torturous thing it would do because of some unwritten rule that the more you want to _not_ think of it is the time when you think more of it, to be irrelevant once we as a group started on the reason why we were here in the first place.

Everyone except Maria had unanimously decided to wait for us before delving into the takoyaki stands this festival boasted with shoulders high and chest out. Why Maria was excluded was because of the many things she had already consumed from the time they got here to when _we_ got here. Fried squid, hotdog on a stick, choco banana, okonomiyaki, toffee apple, the list went on, so it was most likely a safe bet to include takoyaki in the list. I didn't really mind; the girl was young and a glutton, but her metabolism tends to work on overdrive—now _there's_ a reason why she's so fixated on poop at times—that it might be impossible for her to actually get fat.

Still, I felt like a worried parent witnessing his daughter eating a banquet of what was akin to carny food, and that did wonders to her malnutrition intake. Well, I could at least let her splurge on these things every once in a while. She looked happy and excited after all, though I had to wonder where she was able to put it all because her stomach wasn't at all bloating up like a balloon.

"Well," I said, scouting the stands erected on either side of the path leading to the main shrine temple, "time to look for some good takoyaki."

"I shall accompany you on this endeavor, Aniki."

"Right."

The others opted to stay, so it was just me and Yukimura going from stall to stall, buying a few packs of takoyaki. I was eager to try them out now, but such eagerness would mean opening these boxes prematurely and gobbling up the delectable squid balls before the others got a chance to even see and smell them. Yukimura was already familiar with where each and every takoyaki stall was, so it was only a matter of following his lead and buying the food.

The festival was in full swing, and though it was easy enough for us to worm our way through the crowd, the smell, noise, and lighting was close to overwhelming. You could even hear the shouts and cheers from store vendors on the other side of the shrine, although my logical side insisted that I was exaggerating. There were people from all around celebrating and being merry in this happy-laden atmosphere, from young children running around and playing the festival games to old couples enjoying the activities of the young and feeling the nostalgia that they were once like the upbeat, loud, and excited young'uns they see before them. It was a festival that attracted people and it was a festival that made them happy and alive.

I tried not to smile too visibly, lest I scare away someone who chanced upon seeing it, but the enthusiastic aura of the place was contagious. Two kids even bumped at my side, saying sorry over their shoulders, and disappeared into the crowd, but that did not put away my smile at the least.

Yukimura stopped in front of another stall and informed me that this was the last one he saw selling takoyaki before the group returned to the top of the stairs in wait for the three of us. I looked down at the haul he and I gathered and deemed that it was adequate enough for our purpose here. Better to eat these things ASAP than scour the festival end-to-end for every takoyaki we could get. Besides, I bet Sena and the others were already hungry for some of the delicious treats.

"So this will be our last stop before returning?" Yukimura asked, adjusting the half-dozen boxes in his hands.

"Yeah," I replied simply, and stepped in front of the vendor even when he was still in the middle of thanking his previous customer for their patronage and whatnot. He looked at me and didn't bat an eye. Just smiled and did his opening spiel for buying customers.

"What'll ya have, sonny?"

"The best takoyaki you have, Ossan."

He grinned. "Gotcha." Then he hollered to someone in the back. "Oi, Jun-chan! We still 'ave some o' that special takoyaki ya made?"

Jun-chan . . .? Don't tell me—

_No, don't jump to conclusions_, I thought to myself. _Jun is a common enough name. Yeah! I mean, what're the chances of 'Jun-chan' being the same Jun I know? A very slim chance, that's what!_

Someone emerged from the back—

"We still have this last box of it, but I was kinda saving it for—"

—and our respective jaws dropped.

"Kodaka?!"

Probability. Why do you hate me so?

* * *

><p>"Hahaha! So ya two know each other, eh? Who woulda thunk it?"<p>

"Yeah," I replied, almost murmuring the words, too busy gaping at the yukata Jun was wearing, "who would . . ."

Growing self-conscious, she tried to fold herself inward—a slouched back, head bowed with vibrant rosy cheeks and ears, and arms forming a V, the hands intertwining at waist-level—but only managed to make her look shy and humble. The yukata was a vibrant red with orange flower silhouettes spreading around and over the cloth as if the sewer did not want to be outdone with the amount of flowers they could include. The yellow obi was well made and wrapped her waist quite nicely. This wasn't the first time I'd seen Jun in a yukata, but that had been when we were in middle school and still in the early stages of development to maturity, so the one particular aspect that was small back then had now looked to have gone through several growth spurts since I had left. They were covered modestly and though they weren't as big as Sena's, they _were_ bigger than the average Japanese teen. I barely noticed it on our little get-together a few days ago because her clothes never really tried that hard to accentuate them, but in this red yukata, where the fabric seemed to have been provided a challenge not unlike Sena's own, the chest part of her left nothing to the imagination. She even put her raven hair up into a high ponytail not unlike how Rika wears it.

"Fancy meeting you here, huh, Kodaka?" Jun said, gathering her courage to say it all straight and optimistic, but the higher pitch in her voice belied her confidence and proved that she was as nervous as me, maybe even twice over. I knew her enough to realize that she was again shy of being out and about wearing a yukata of all things.

"Y-Yeah." I tried to hide my own nervousness, but it seemed Jun was doing a better job than me. "You're helping out?"

"Right, she is," the takoyaki vendor said. "But her shift is al'dy over, so she's free tah enjoy the festival for the rest of the night."

"Eh?! But Yusuke-ooji-san—"

"I'll be fine on mah own, Jun-chan. Hahaha! These ol' bones can still whip up a good takoyaki cuisine that I'd be arrested for makin' it so darn good."

Her surprise formed into a frown of bewilderment. "Are you sure? Remember the last time you strained yourself?"

He flinched, but put up a brave smile. "Learned mah lesson there, I did, Jun-chan. I may not be as young as I used tah be, but that don't mean yah can't teach an ol' dog new tricks."

She looked torn between wanting to continue helping out and wanting to explore the festival had in store for tonight. And then there was me in the equation as well. While I would've liked to spend this night with my clubmates and the takoyaki we'd eat, I wasn't about to just leave Jun high and dry, going around the shrine without a companion. It kind of hit home where it hurts for me, seeing an old friend spending her time in the festivities alone, so I decided to just man up and pitch in. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

"You don't mind tagging along with us, do you, Jun?"

She turned to me, still looking shy and maybe a little edgy. "I don't know. I mean, I don't want to ruin the night for your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" I arched an eyebrow. "What do you . . . mean?" Realization slowly sank in, and my head turned to Yukimura, who was a boy but looked and dressed like a girl. "Uh, you misunderstand. She's—I mean _he_—is not my girlfriend."

Note to self: Traps are dangerous for your sanity.

"Kodaka," Jun said, darting her eyes between me and Yukimura, "you do realize what you're saying, right? No matter how you look at it—"

"He looks like a girl," I finished, and massaged my forehead. "Believe me, I'm well aware of that."

"And if he _is_ a guy, then why is he wearing—"

"I ask myself the same question, and the answer I came with is probably because he wants to bring out his manliness." I turned to Yukimura. "Right?"

He nodded. "As expected, Aniki. Nothing escapes your notice."

"Manliness?" The look in her face screamed 'What manliness? I don't see it anywhere . . . if at all.' Of course, wanting to be polite, Jun wisely decided to keep that in her thoughts, but I noticed and deduced it right away.

Whether or not Yukimura noticed that or even cared, he didn't say a thing. "Aniki," he said finally as an awkward silence began to permeate our vicinity, a silence ignorant of the happy smiles and laughs surrounding us, "what about the takoyaki?"

"Oh, right." I pulled out my wallet, turned to the vendor, who remained grinning, and asked how much the food would cost.

"Free."

"Eh?"

"Well, not totally free, if yah get what I'm sayin', sonny boy. Yah just 'ave to escort the little missy 'round the festival, is all. Hahaha!"

That was my intention from the start, though.

"Yusuke-ooji-san!" From my peripheral vision, I could make out a slight blush on Jun's cheeks.

"Spring comes and goes fer the youth, Jun-chan." He patted her head like how a father would to his daughter. "Be sure tah treasure it all; nevuh waste 'em."

Conceding, Jun nodded under his giant hand before he let go. The package Jun had been holding when she emerged from the back was in his other hand, and he gave it to me with that ever-present grin on his face. I had to wonder whether he was optimistic to a fault or there were maybe a few screws loose in his head. Either way, I accepted the box and gave a nod at Jun, who bowed and said her farewells to Yusuke before joining us back to where the rest of the Neighbors Club were waiting for the food.

"Oh, right, introductions," I murmured. "Yukimura, this is Jun Kasugano, by the way, an old acquaintance from middle school. And Jun, this is Yukimura Kusunoki, a fellow member of the club I joined in my school."

"A pleasure to meet you, Kasugano-dono." He bowed.

"Me too. Nice to meet you, Kusunoki-kun." And then she bowed.

"You don't mind if we meet up with a few others as well?" I asked her.

"Not at all." Her face turned thoughtful. "Though this is a surprise. You're making friends easily now, Kodaka?"

"I don't think you can really call us friends."

"But isn't it natural for club members to grow closer? I mean, you all have at least one mutual interest. It's a good place to start as any."

"It's not exactly . . . a good topic of conversation." In likelihood, talking about how we were friendless or how we'd find ways to make friends would be too depressing. And we of the Neighbors Club were not the social types to begin with. To break the ice would be a challenge in and of itself. Unless one had something good to say, something that could pique the interest of the unlikely band of misfits this club had garnered, then it was better to keep one's mouth shut than be faced with a firing squad of either confused or flat looks. Sometimes that could be much worse than an outright rejection.

"What is this club, anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We call it the Neighbors Club."

"Okay. So what do you do in the Neighbors Club?"

"Well, we . . . uh, uhm . . . we . . ." I tried fishing for an explanation, but I was reeling in nothing. I remembered Yozora telling the purpose of the Neighbors Club in a roundabout way with that silver tongue of hers. That was as far as my memory went, though; her explanation had been too long and confusing to have even one of my brain cells bother recording it properly.

The look on Jun's face—how it exuded such blinding curiosity—made me squirm a little.

"Kodaka," Jun said, a hint of resigned exasperation in her tone, "don't tell me you joined a club without knowing what it does?"

"All right, then I won't tell you."

She sighed. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess."

I didn't get another word in because we arrived to where the rest were. During our absence, Maria looked to have gone through a few more food stalls; her stack of empty containers was two feet taller since the last I checked. The rest were trying out the few takoyaki I had gathered before we left. There weren't any blissful looks from the gang, which diminished some of my hopes of finally tasting an equivalent of the best takoyaki I had in years, but seeing such joviality in their smiles, the way the girls' faces lit up as we approached, was enough to dissuade me from pessimistic thoughts.

"Kodaka." Yozora suddenly appeared in front of me, arms crossed and the once jovial smile had instantly morphed into a frown compounded by her scrutinizing scowl. And they were not directed at me. "Who is this?"

"I am Jun Kasugano," the girl behind me answered. The rustle of plastic might imply that she complemented her introduction with the necessary bow. "I'm an old friend of Kodaka's. Pleasure to meet you."

"I was not talking to you," Yozora retorted. I was surprised at her viciousness. Her expression did not change, but her voice contained an edge of sharpened steel, ready to cut Jun down for even the slightest provocation.

I never realized she could project this much hostility into one person, and I inadvertently led Jun right into the fire, so to speak. And the night was still young, too.

I just hoped that the situation could get better as they softened up to Jun.

I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

I know that it's been a long time since my last update, but it was not as if I decided to lay this off for a year then come back to it when I felt like it. I already stated before that my interest in this story is waning, especially with the end of Season 2 and the very, very, _very_ slow updates on the translations for the latest LN volume (although the team at **guhehe Translations** is doing their best to quickly roll out the chapters, which I'm quite happy for) last year.

Despite that, and while I was busying myself with other fanfiction projects, this story never really left my mind. It has an ending and it needs to be said. So in the interim of the previous and latest chapter, I was brainstorming a whole lot, because there was a lot of wrong things that keep popping up as I went along with the chapter. This chapter alone went through 3 rewrites. The original was about the festival, the second was me scrapping the festival episode and going onto the aftermath, the third was me taking a different approach on the aftermath. And, as you can see, I rolled back to the original idea anyway. Yeah, it was that hectic for me to be satisfied about everything.

Well, not everything because there are still a few more kinks I need to work out in the next chapter (you will notice that this is just Part 1due to the enclosed **I** in the chapter title). If this new and fresh idea I have just a few days ago gets pushed green-lit, so to speak, expect next chapter to be double the word length compared to this one.

But it won't be till March. Because I have this job, and this job demands me to work 6 days a week, and more recently, it's demanding me to work without a day off for 4 weeks because business politics is such _a fucking pain in the ass for the little guy AND I HOPE TO FUCKING GOD I GET COMPENSATED GREATLY FOR THIS BULLSHIT!_

In other news, though, this may or may not be the last time I'll be delving into Haganai. I have two other ideas that are still percolating in my head. One of them was a draft of the first chapter posted in the AnimeSuki forums (you can check it out if you wish; it's in the Haganai Fanfiction Discussion thread), the other was a summarized idea shared in one of the threads in The Mechanics of In Flight forum here in FF (on that note, if you like Fate/stay Night, I recommend you read two crossover stories made by **gabriel blessing**, "Hill of Swords" and "In Flight"). The former has no definitive ending yet, but the latter most definitely does (the middle, however . . .). So there's a very likely chance that by the time I finish this story, I'll be tackling either of the two story ideas right away. We'll talk more about this once I come close to the end.

And with that, enjoy the chapter, guys, and I will see you again in the next few weeks.


	15. An Unforgettable Summer Night (II)

Date written: 12/07/14 – 02/11/14

Posted on FanFiction: 04/11/14

A/N: I know, I know, it's been one hell of a long time since my last update, but whatever excuse I'll say will probably not live up to what you were expecting. Life just . . . kept me busy, that's it. I do the 9 to 5 (8 to 5, really), six days in a row, my only rest day, I spend it lying about, playing games, recharging myself, and then it is back to the daily grind. And what a grind it is.

In any case, yes, I'm not giving up on this fic, even though my interest in it has certainly tumbled down a whole damn lot the past half-year mainly due to spoilers I've read of what happened in Volume 10. I hated the content. I hated it with every fiber of my being. Of course, maybe my perception can change if I have the chance of reading the whole thing instead of a very condensed version, but you can't tell me that this thing wasn't rushed due to the author's health problems (the lack of Buriki illustrations has also been a major factor here). Kodaka's character went from an averted dense protagonist to an emotionally flimsy Makoto Itou clone (kind of an extreme metaphor, but hey, I hated the bastard earlier on when I played the VN, and here I'm starting to get similar hate-vibes). I really hope that the final volume will not look rushed and/or butcher the plot for a decisive end.

Speaking of decisive end, the ending to this fic is in the horizon. I can see at least five more chapters before the epilogue. The time to say goodbye to this story is close at hand, people. The end is nigh!

Also... 100k words milestone, baby!

* * *

><p><strong>––<strong> **CHAPTER 15 ––**

**An Unforgettable Summer Night (II)**

I had mixed feelings about Jun's suggestion. I mean, it was great that everyone decided to stay after filling their stomachs with festival food because going here _just _for that was kind of a waste. Granted, that was our original intention, but now that we were here, the joyful ambiance cried for us to stay and have fun. That was the good side. The bad side, however . . .

"Hah! I win."

"Keep barking, Dog-Meat. I'm still leading by three. Cheering for yourself even though it's clear you're still far behind? Pfft, pathetic."

"Gh! I'm gonna beat that smirk out of you, I swear."

"Then how will you fair in goldfish catching?"

"Bring it on."

I sighed. "Is it so hard for them to get along, just for one night?"

"Does this happen often?"

I nodded at Jun. "Unfortunately. Been that way since they first met."

"I'm surprised neither quit the club. They must be both strong-willed."

"More like stubborn, if you ask me," I muttered as I watched, with growing incredulity, at how Sena won their latest match with a cheap move. The once joyful ambiance of the festival contended with the growing animosity between two beautiful girls, and the former was losing. Badly. It got so bad that people sensed the tension almost like instinct and had given the two a really wide berth, which just grew wider as their arguments got louder.

When I agreed with Jun that we enjoy ourselves since we were here, I had thought this would bring everyone closer together, give us a better understanding of riajuu interactions and how it is affected with the feel of the festival. I realized too late that it'd take more than a festival to damper, if not fully rid, the competitive streak going on between our club president and resident galge addict.

"That win doesn't count," Yozora said, pointing an accusing finger at a smirking Sena. "You cheated to victory."

"It's called strategy, not cheating, loser." Sena brandished her new goldfish, kept alive and swimming around inside a thick plastic bag. "Miffed you didn't think this first?"

"More like she can't afford buying excessively like you can," I muttered, and did nothing else but watch as the two moved on to another stand, their determination unwavering. I found it somehow surreal. Two totally beautiful girls—one foreigner blonde in a deep blue kimono, one long-haired Japanese teen with piercing violet eyes—and they were the center of attention yet instead of being crowded, they were being avoided.

Should I start calling them The Untouchable Divas?

"Well," Rika began, "Rika doesn't want to spend her special night with a certain senpai watching those two have their endless catfights. Rika would rather see more of the festival with that certain senpai."

I turned to her. "Okay, go ahead. Don't let us stop you." Then I turned away.

"Mou!" Rika stomped her sandaled foot a few times. "Baka-senpai! Baka, baka, _baaaaakaa_!"

"What is it now?" I asked, a little irritated, but suddenly felt a painful slap from the back. "Ow! Jun, what was that for?"

She just narrowed her eyes at me.

"What?"

They got narrower, made more menacing when she crossed her arms. A shiver ran down my back.

"Um, Jun?"

She kept up the glare, and I gulped. She drummed her fingers on her elbow, and though the cacophony of shouts, cheers, cries, and laughter that surrounded us, the drumming sounded quite deafening. I wanted her to stop that.

So I turned back to Rika. "Sorry. I took that joke too far."

When I glanced at Jun at the corner of my eye, she stopped the drumming and the glaring. Her lips showed a satisfied smile, as if things had gone all according to plan.

"Apology accepted," Rika said, "but seeing that Kodaka-senpai conceded from a little glare from Jun-senpai makes me want to learn how to do it, too."

"Why?" Me and my big mouth. I just _had _to ask . . .

"For our S&M play, of course!" she answered unashamedly. "If seduction didn't work, then domination just might."

"Hey, Yukimura," I said to the yukata-clad boy, "wanna try your hand in the ring toss?"

He nodded. "If it is Aniki's wish, then I shall test my mettle with his."

"Don't ignore me, senpai!"

"It's okay, Rika-chan. Kodaka's not the submissive type anyway. I'm just good at whipping him up to my standards."

"I renounce that." I sighed through my nose. "Very much."

Jun grinned. "Well, then, how about that ring toss? Time to show the boys just who's the boss around here."

* * *

><p>An hour had come and gone like lightning.<p>

I kind of wished it had gone on for a little longer, despite knowing this was just wishful thinking. The festival itself was already settling down from the excitement, and it was not up to us (or me) to extend it for more fun time with everyone.

. . . Okay, that came out wrong, but you know what I meant.

Rika and Jun hit it off amazingly well, after the tense first contact. Granted, Yozora was at fault for that and it might've colored a bit of Rika's perception of my old friend, but a conversation or two later, they were conversing with gusto and whispering with laughter as if they were in a slumber party. Their blushed faces whenever they whispered, however, gave me a feeling of forebode. Curiosity dictated that I should find out what they were talking about, but self-preservation held me back, probably saving my sanity in the process. I didn't know why it'd be something extreme; I just followed what my survival instincts told me.

We took a break on a nearby bench, Maria and Kobato sloppily settling their butts with neither a word nor consideration. Just a relieved sigh that spoke a ton about the girls' exhaustion. I half-expected Maria to ask for more food at this point.

Maria's stomach growled.

"Nyahaha, I'm hungry again!" She even sounded proud of it.

I resisted the urge to palm my face. I just resigned myself to buying about a dozen more carny foods for the little nun. This would pile up onto her malnutrition intake for one night, but I'd be able to balance it out with veggies and high-fibered meals for the rest of the week. As I mentioned before, that girl has quite a healthy metabolism.

"Look at you, being all Big Brother-like to Maria-chan," Jun said, as she positioned Kobato onto her lap and hugged her from behind. My sister, in reaction, smiled. "Kobato-chan feels so neglected right now. Why, she wishes you'd pay as much attention to her as you do with Maria-chan."

"Nee-nee!" Kobato exclaimed, cheeks flooding with pink. "Yer supposed ta keep it a secret."

It wasn't at all surprising for Kobato to latch onto Jun the moment she remembered that this was the same 'Nee-nee' she oftentimes played with whenever Jun decided to come over at our house. That nickname was coined because Jun wanted something unique for a change—that, and she apparently loved to hear my little sister call her 'Nee-nee' for some odd reason. It made her blush, too, and—

Oh.

Oooooooh.

Oh. Kay. Don't think about it, Kodaka. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

Jun showed Kobato a lopsided smile. "I don't remember you saying that I should keep it a secret, though."

"It was complied!"

Kobato . . . I think you meant 'implied.'

"Nyahaha, serves you right, poopy vampire! Onii-chan pays way more attention to me."

Kobato gritted her teeth. "At least ah won't be turnin' like a balloon from all that eatin'!"

"What are you talking about now, super poopy vampire?"

"Kukuku. The Curse of the Glutton I have befell upon ye." She did her Sumeragi pose. "You shall eat and eat and eat until your stomach bloats and when it can fit food no longer, it will pop! It would be oh so glorious."

"Impossible, I poop enough times to keep that from happening."

"But have ye pooped at all this night?"

The child nun looked aghast. "I . . . haven't." She padded her stomach. "I won't really bloat, will I? I won't really explode, will I?"

"Kukuku. Only your gluttony knows, sinful follower of God."

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Onii-chan, onii-chan! Save me! I don't wanna explode into tiny little Marias!"

It was almost routine for me to go over to her and provide comfort. Gullibility was one thing, but not really learning to take everything with a grain salt—especially when they seem to clash with logic and reality—was another. It could be just her natural naivety coming into play, or it could be that she might be ahead of me and the rest in certain areas but still catching up to us in others. Whichever the case, it was still up to me to pat her head and erase her panic. Kobato wasn't up for an encore performance, thankfully; the contented smile on her face told everyone that she had her fun and wouldn't cause trouble again.

I tried to ignore her constant glaring at my hand on Maria's head, though, and I was thankful it worked.

I looked over at the others again and couldn't stop making a smile when I saw Jun somehow interacting amazingly with Kobato, Rika, and Yukimura. Though the feminine man was more content with silent observation than actually pitching in on the conversation—they were talking about KuroNecro's newest season—the other three made for it with sheer enthusiasm on the subject.

That was Jun in a nutshell, I guess. She could make friends with just about anybody. If not for that special trait, she and I might not have become friends back then. I was also kind of envious of it actually. She made friends so easily and there she was, integrating into the Neighbors Club's members as if she hadn't broken a sweat in leading the conversation on and continuing it. They switched to debating the pros and cons of newly introduced powers and characters. I could barely make heads or tails of it, but that was all right. The three were having fun, talking about a shared interest. Who was I to intrude on a good thing?

"Hey, Kodaka," Jun said, gesturing her head to the more populated area of the festival, "wanna try your hand at the shooting gallery?"

Eh?

"Hey, what happened to the debate you guys got going on?"

"Oh, we finished up on that, senpai."

"It was a most eye-opening experience. I had not expected thy lost kindred to be so informed of our ancestors' powers and bloodlines."

"My apologies, Aniki. I had nothing to add to the discussion, so I remained quiet for the duration of it."

"We were only talking about the first episode," Jun elaborated. "The second won't be out till tomorrow night."

"Okay, so where does shooting come into play?"

"Rika-chan and I were talking about a shooting competition and we thought you'd like to join."

"Eh?"

"It'd be like old times."

Ouch. "Yeah, old times where I get my ass kicked."

Jun grinned.

It was infectious. "Ah, what the hell. All for fun, right?"

* * *

><p>I was not having fun.<p>

Oh no, you misunderstand.

This was not due to my utter defeat at the shooting range. On the contrary, the whole competition radiated fun and laughs as Jun got Rika into emulating an anime character while they were on the range. Jun took on Rei Ayanami, going all the way with her poker face, while Rika acted out Asuka Soryuu, doing haughty and holier-than-thou poses like it had been her personality since she was born. Of course, we were turning heads—with a few looking at my hair before deciding they saw nothing—but not the fearful kind as what Yozora and Sena formed. That, in itself, was a good thing because instead of indirectly forcing people to stay away, we were gathering a small crowd who wanted to see how their whole roleplay would play out.

It had ended with Jun finally breaking her poker face with giggles that shook her aim. She lost the competition and the chance to get the grand prize, which Rika won instead. We now had a new Xbox 360 console to do with, and seeing as Rika gave me the decision what to do with it and our home already had one, I settled for donating it to the clubroom.

What I meant when I said I wasn't having fun was after all that, when we were about to meet up with Yozora and Sena by the spot from where we had eaten an hour or so before. Jun had made a comment about some swimming anime called Three (or was it Free?) and Rika immediately pulled her into a discussion about BL, yaoi, and the sheer depravity of someone who's gone rotten.

I knew a lot about Jun, but what I didn't know about was her secret admiration of Boy's Love, so she was gushing alongside Rika about that swimming anime. Cue two girls talking in detail of things I'd rather not know about. But that was not what made this opposite of fun for me.

I was fine with them talking about their interest, no matter how uncomfortable it made me feel, but when Maria—

"Ne, ne, Onii-chan, what does yaoi mean?"

—asked me that, shit had just hit the fan.

"Rika," I said to the science-girl, "I know what you're thinking. No."

She gave me a sheepish smile. "Rika will admit she considered teaching Maria the truth, but even Rika can see that she is too young to know of such depravity."

"It's not as much depravity as it is a topic not for children," I replied. At least she knew that answering the nun's innocent question was a bad idea. I then redirected Maria's attention from that very dangerous subject to the festival again.

God help me if she and Rika started fawning over yaoi books inside the clubroom. I was certain my heart would crumble little by little for every perverted giggle.

"Excuse me, senpai," Rika said, nearing me and walking next to me as we walked along the shrine road towards to our starting point, which was where we were meeting up with Sena and Yozora. "Rika is kind of curious of the . . . close relationship you and Jun-senpai have. And what Rika meant by curious, she meant really, really curious."

"I concur with Rika-dono," Yukimura said, who was walking along on my right flank. "May I implore for you to sate our curiosity over the subject, Aniki?"

"Well . . ." I glanced at Jun, who shrugged at me, as if to say 'Go ahead; it's your story to tell or not.'

I cleared my throat. "Well, Jun and I actually go way back in middle school. We were in the same class, two seats apart, while my family was still living in Kyushu."

"He included the 'two seats apart' because our school makes students switch seats per semester," Jun added. "And for the three semesters he'd been there, we were always two seats apart." She chuckled. "It was hard to talk to each other during class."

"It was a good thing for me, though." I tried to smile, but the mixed feelings in me made it crooked somehow, so I stopped when one kid who only took one glance at my face cried to his mother, screaming 'Scary monster!'. I continued, "I had enough trouble being labeled as the class delinquent. I didn't need any more accusations to my name, true or otherwise."

"Yeah, you're right. You suck at texting anyway."

"It—It was my first time getting a cellphone!" I had enough problems typing then on a keyboard, so when a flip-phone was introduced to my life, I had seven months of mistakes piled up, some so embarrassing that I'd rather pry them out of my memories.

"Weak excuse."

"Anyway!" I coughed dramatically, but that did not alleviate the smothered laugh from Rika. Maria didn't own a phone yet, so she was neutral, Yukimura stayed stoic, Kobato looked sympathetic—she had her own troubles with her first phone. "Jun and I didn't really talk to each other till our first Economics class."

"It turned into a friendly cooking competition."

I snorted. "You call that friendly?"

"Yeah."

"You were glaring at me."

"I prefer to call it a 'concentrated gaze.'"

"You took every loss personally."

"I still have my pride as a chef. And it was not _completely_ personal."

"This byplay is so natural, Rika is getting envious of it," the science girl muttered, looking from me to Jun, back and forth like a tennis audience. "So can Rika safely guess that you two were close?"

"We used to," I retorted, and regretted it. "A lot can happen in three years."

Jun, somehow knowing what I meant by that blunt answer, made no comment over it.

"Remember when I cooked Sisig?" she asked, smiling lopsidedly.

"Yeah, I remember. I actually kinda miss it." I then said to the rest. "It's a Filipino dish."

"Learned it from my Mom," she added. "To pass down the family recipe, she said."

"So you possess Filipino ancestry?" Yukimura asked.

Jun nodded. "Half, yeah, with a distant Chinese ancestry, too." Which explained why her skin was quite fair.

"Did you know that Kodaka-senpai is half-British?"

"Not at first. I had some suspicions, but then I met Kobato-chan and my suspicions proved correct." She gave my sister another back-hug, and after the initial squirm out of surprise, Kobato leaned into it again, with cheeks painted in healthy red and both corners of her lips arching upwards. I wondered how Sena would react if she saw this. "You might say we halves made a whole."

". . . That is still the worst pun I have ever heard, Jun."

"Don't care!" She giggled. "Besides, I—"

Something halted her words, her thoughts. I could only guess at what, with those wide eyes and trembling lips, but never would I have guessed Jun flinging towards my chest and clinging to it. It wasn't just her lips that trembled; her whole body did, too.

She grabbed my arms and wrapped them around her. By then, the gasps from our group were more profound as surprise morphed into shock.

"What in the world are you doing?!" I questioned in their stead, keeping the hug she initiated but ensuring that there was at least an inch of space between my arms and her body. My libido wanted the Melon Attack, but the gentleman in me beat it till it was silent.

"Hush," she replied, head bowed, face snuggling deeper into my chest that I could feel the warmth of her quickening breath through my shirt. "Stay like this, please. Don't make a scene."

"What?"

She looked towards the others and gestured for silence—forefinger pointing upwards, touching her lips—and they actually complied. I couldn't see what face she was making to receive a universal response. Curiosity prodded me, but most of me deemed it unimportant.

I was barely catching up to the fast change of events, but something had to have triggered Jun's actions. I knew for certain that she saw something—or more likely someone—in the crowd, and she most likely wanted to remain unseen from them. I glanced at my left, at my right, keeping an eye out, but everyone was a stranger, a suspect, a mystery. Sounds and shouts intertwined, a chaotic symphony of syllables that added difficulty on concentrating for my search. Faces came and went, too many to count, too many to observe, and all were looking this way and that way, walking along the festival with little purpose, drinking in the sights and sounds like tourists visiting a foreign landmark.

I caught sight of one guy that stood out from the heads of black hair. Hair dye; that shade of blond was too bright for it to be natural. His black eyes, darting to and fro, swept the general area, and I instinctively huddled down, pulling Jun further into our embrace as she yelped. I stepped back, trying to blend myself in the crowd—which was a hard feat in and of itself because of my head filled with blond and brown tresses—and pointed everyone towards one of the stands behind us.

The stand offered a ring toss challenge. A baker's dozen of empty bottles was set at the far side of the stand and to win the grand prize, all three rings must loop into the center bottle. I wasn't interested, but I fished out money anyway and gave it to the vendor. I felt bad vibes from the guy, and I had little doubts that he was whom Jun saw. Jun repositioned herself to my left, still in the act of embracing me. The vendor took one look at me, at Jun, at the rest of the girls (and one boy), and he smirked as if he understood what was going on.

"This is getting unfair now, you know," Rika said, after the vendor gave me three rings for the challenge. I was about to ask what she meant when she suddenly walked to my right and invaded my personal space. Two small soft mounds pressed onto my chest. I already tried to not think about Jun's own gifted set, but this new sensation just reconfirmed that, yes, there was a girl to my left hugging me and pressing her breasts to my chest, and yes, yes, the same could be said to my right. Please keep your jealousy to a minimum, perverts. "There!" Rika added, "Now it's not so unfair anymore."

The vendor twitched his eye at me, looking disapproving but I knew he was really feeling envious.

"Rika, what are you doing?" I asked. I was tempted to push her away, but crushed that thought. It was too rude.

"Evening the odds, senpai," she answered, smiling up at me.

"What odds?"

"'To get in your pants' odds, of course."

"Get away. Now."

"Uuuuuuu. Senpai, you meaniiiiieeee . . ."

"Give me a break already."

"Aniki, is it all right if I hug you from behind?"

"What?"

"Are you gonna toss the rings or flirt around, kiddo?" the vendor asked.

I just had to provide an explanation to this. "I'm not even doing any flirting . . ."

But, as I already knew, he did not believe me.

I played the game and won no prizes, sorry pal better luck next time. By then, Jun had looked around once more, deemed it safe, and let go of me. Rika had to be pried off my arm before she did any letting go. Jun seemed ready to perform an encore. Her hands jittered and her eyes still darted the pathway to and fro, trying to look for that speck of blond along the sea of blacks, but either that guy had been shorter than I first saw or he had walked too far for either of us to spot him.

She sighed and I saw how much her lips shivered, how much her breath shook, when she did.

"Jun," I said, stepping closer and murmured in her ear, "was that him?"

She bowed. I could barely recognize the nod she gave me, compounded with a muttered, "Yes."

"Senpai," Rika said, cutting into our whispered conversation, "what exactly happened?"

"Well, you see," I started, but took pause as I gauged Jun's reaction. This was her story to tell, more so than the one earlier, and she gave a blink-and-you'll-miss-it nod without looking at me, as if she knew what my pause was about. "You see, Jun kinda spotted her ex in the crowd." That could've been worded better, in hindsight. "She's trying to avoid him as much as possible."

"An over-attached ex, huh?" Rika hummed. She looked around, too, despite not knowing what that Tomoya guy looked like. "Wait . . . Jun-senpai, you already had a boyfriend?!"

"Uhm, yes."

"Then, then, then . . . did the two of you have a physical relationship?!" I swore her eyes sparkled while she formed the fig sign. A moment later, she looked to have realized just what she was asking and that it involved a person Jun refused to be involved with, much less in contact. "No, no, it's okay, senpai. I shouldn't have asked that. I'm sorry."

"I don't want to talk about him," Jun replied, smiling despite showing remnants of her anxiety. "Not to that extent. Let's just say I made a bad call dating him and leave it at that."

Rika nodded. "Okay."

A somber atmosphere dropped in afterwards. Barely any kind of conversation started on our way to meet up with the rest until Jun brought back the old topic.

"And, Kodaka," she said, "uhm, sorry about hugging you. It was kind of an emergency and—"

"It's okay." I smiled coyly, a first for me. "You've already done worse."

She blushed, smiled a little as her eyes darted to the side.

My response did not go unnoticed by the others along with what it implicated. But either out of respect in privacy or refusing to ponder such a thought, they stayed quiet about it as we arrived at our destination.

* * *

><p>Half of me knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that we'd find the two girls knee-deep in negative attention as they took jabs at each other. And the other half agreed.<p>

I sighed in defeat when we _did_ find them doing exactly that, bags hanging on their arms, talking with scowls and gritted teeth, uncaring of how big of a berth they were receiving from the other festival-goers. Again.

"Will there ever be a day when you two get along?" I asked them, spooking them in the process.

Being the first to process my question, Yozora said, "Yes." One beat later: "Once Meat stops mouthing off like a human and be what she's supposed to be."

Sena scoffed. "The only time I'd get along with Yozora is when she finally decides to apologize to me while in seiza position and then lick my feet in repentance."

"I'd like to see you get roasted. It's a shame you're too rotten to be edible."

"I'd like to see you in a crowded bus again. The pathetic face you'd make would be quite a juicy addition to my collection."

"Collection?"

Sena suddenly grimaced.

"Okay, you guys," I said, putting a hand on each of their shoulder and pushing them further apart before a catfight started, "knock it off already."

Sena and Yozora glared at each other and turned away in a huff at the same time. The former's relieved sigh did not escape my notice, or her earlier comment about a collection. I was curious, but left it alone. Something in my gut told me I'd rather not know about it.

"Fine with me," Sena said, hefting her bags higher. "I still won more prizes than Yozora."

"Only because you cheated through bribery."

Okay, this was getting out of hand. They'd start arguing again in no time.

Somehow, Jun managed to derail their argument with one sentence alone: "Rika-chan won an Xbox 360."

Wide eyes, the two girls looked at our kouhai to verify the truth of her prize, but seeing her empty-handed, they were raising skeptical eyebrows before I hefted the console in its box for their eyes to see and behold. Skeptical eyebrows turned incredulous as, yes, I was carrying an Xbox 360, and yes, I confirmed that it had been Rika who won it. They looked at Rika's prize to their feeble own, and their dejection turned palpable.

I swear, these girls . . . I just couldn't understand the kind of unsaid competitions they oftentimes create without warning.

"Let's . . . Let's just leave already," Yozora said. "I've exhausted my patience with this riajuu crowd now."

"For once," Sena said, sighing through her nose, "I agree with you. Let's call it a night."

I probably would've agreed with them; it _had _been a long day, and we had gone through the whole festival, having fun and laughs all the way. What was left for us to do here other than to walk the same path a second time?

This was the right time to say our goodbyes, head to our homes, and tuck in for the next day of doing our usual thing in the clubroom, but something in me refused to let the somber atmosphere that crept in when Tomoya showed up to remain with Jun. She hid it well, but I knew her enough to see that the sight of him affected her, still. I wanted to do something to get her mind out of the funk she was in completely. The question was how.

A small boom slammed into my ears, the cells in my brain immediately pinpointing the source to be from above, and when I looked up, a donut-shaped light floated in the sky, going wider and thinner and dimmer. Inspired, I searched inside one of the bags I was carrying and hit pay dirt.

"Hey, guys," I called, fishing out one of the packets and showing it to them, "what do you say to lighting some fireworks?"

* * *

><p>Kobato and I changed out of our yukata. We purchased a bucket, a candle, and a box of matches from a convenience store. And we found a secluded spot near the festival beside the city canal for the dozens of fireworks Rika and Jun had won in their Evangelion roleplay. The air was cool and the echoes of the festivities lingered, small and faint but not lacking in excitement.<p>

Maria and Kobato bounced with anticipation, and I gave them the first light. Their sparklers danced in colorful flames. A touch of worry came over me when the pair started a competition of how many sticks they could hold while naming their action a secret, difficult technique. Rika and Yukimura settled with tinier sparklers, crouching down as their fireworks sizzled. Sena and Yozora enjoyed glaring at each other more than the fireworks in their hands. Jun ended up surprising me with a string of firecrackers she tossed under me.

As the dust settled and I panted from my mutant tap dance, with cheeks smeared with a little red that reached the ears—which picked the heavy laughter coming from all around me—I glared at Jun. She blew a raspberry at me. At the sidelines, Sena glared at her, somehow ignoring the increasing ferocity from Yozora's own glare.

Ever since Kobato informed her admirer that she preferred Jun's company over hers, whatever relationship Sena could've forged with Jun had gone completely cold. It got colder—it was possible because I felt it—when Kobato started calling her "Nee-nee" as if boasting the word for anyone to hear. My old friend took the hate in stride, but that was more out of being unsure how to actually deal with it. I'd felt that way before, so I knew where she was coming from.

"Don't take it personally," I whispered to her. "She's been getting on my sister's good graces for months and you did that in just one night."

"Why is it taking so long?" Jun asked. Ah, such innocence. I wished I were like her. "It's not _that _hard to be friendly with cute, little Kobato-chan."

"You don't know Sena the way we do. Just nod your head, say you understand, and you'll be better off from it."

"Uh . . ."

"Trust me."

"Oh. Kay . . ."

We burned through the bundle in a hurry. More firecrackers setting off underfoot, more sparklers blasting with colors and light, and more smiles and laughs to liven up the night and close this activity with fond memories for us to look back on someday, somewhere down the road. Just one piece of firework remained, and it wasn't a stretch to say we saved the best for last.

A big fountain called The Last Boss.

"How foreboding," Jun remarked as she read the name before passing it on to me. "It's making me shiver."

"In fear?"

"You wish."

"Why would they call it Last Boss anyway?" Sena inquired, one eyebrow raised. She glared at Jun again. Her lips were a little pursed, as if she was trying not to pout, but it somehow added dozens of points into her cuteness factor. It took all my self-control to look away before she got suspicious. "Is it talking about the final bosses in RPGs?"

I shrugged, glad to have something to think of other than flashes of that cuteness. "Maybe. Let's find out what it's made of."

The girls and Yukimura stood ten paces away from where I planted the fountain. After ensuring it was standing on flat, even ground and wouldn't tumble, I took out a match, lit it, and ignited the fuse. Countdown was imminent, and I walked backwards till I saw the shoulders of Sena and Jun in my peripheral vision. The fuse shone bright and lively, inching closer to the mouth of the fountain. The flame disappeared, as if conceding to the shadows, but only for a few seconds before it returned, bigger, brighter, and it brought back loud and colorful friends. They shot out towards the sky, bursting outwards as they reached their peak, blooming like flowers of dazzling light.

"Ahahahaha! Sugoi sugoi sugoi!" Maria jumped around, filled with mirth, eyes glued to the sky as boom after boom filled our ears.

"Thy summons is complete," Kobato said next to the nun, "and thy offerings are most bountiful. Let thus the night of darkness slather the calling of Kemmler and his Word! Kukuku."

Slather? Really, Kobato, do you even know what that means?

"Looks like this night has ended with a bang, wouldn't you say?" Jun joked, which got a chuckle out of me and Rika. Yukimura had no reaction. Sena growled like a disgruntled granny, and Yozora rolled her eyes. Maria laughed wholeheartedly while Kobato looked to be confused over what was so funny.

"Jun."

This voice was too masculine, too gruff, for any of the girls to say it. And it came from behind us.

We turned as one, Jun gasping in fright. There, a few feet away, with familiar dyed blond hair and narrowed, angry black eyes, stood Jun's fear given form. His anger was directed at me, and if his hands weren't inside the pockets of his white jacket, I would've seen them clenched and ready for a round of Whack-A-Hawk.

"Tomoya," Jun said, her voice even and calm, despite deep inside she was doing all she could to keep it together.

He sauntered closer and closer, acting with purpose and great dignity. Or maybe overinflated pride. It was hard to tell. And for each step he took, Jun braced herself, kept her feet steady and unmoving. A touch of fear radiated from her demeanor—it proved too difficult for her to bottle it all in—and her hand grasped onto the hem of my shirt, like how Kobato would often do when she was small and feeling afraid.

Tomoya saw her movements, narrowed his eyes at it, and stopped five feet away from me. The Last Boss blew out red-colored orbs to the sky, bathing his features as if he had swam through a river of blood, and that mental image alone had me swallowing my spit and resisting the urge to lick my drying lips. At least my hands weren't trembling.

"What's your business here?" Yozora cut in, arms crossed, but even she was affected somewhat by Tomoya's overall . . . aura, you could say. His presence screamed for attention and fear. She refused to show both no matter what.

"My business isn't with you," Tomoya said, giving her a glance before returning to Jun, whose grip on my shirt suddenly tightened. "My business is with her."

Jun bit her lip. She looked to have come to a decision when she said, "Leave me be, Tomoya. We're over."

His eyes narrowed again, cheeks rose, lips pursed. "Yes, I've heard. We haven't had a one-on-one talk since before this whole mess."

Jun said nothing, but she scooted a little closer to me.

"I would like it if we had that one-on-one now." He sighed, ruffled his short dyed hair. "Come on, Jun, it's me. I just want to talk."

She shook her head. "No."

"I said I just want to talk."

"And I said no."

"Jun—"

"No!" she screamed, clenching hard on my shirt's hem as if it had become her only lifeline. She took a breath, pushing it out through her nose, and said, "I have nothing more to say to you, Tomoya. So please leave me alone."

Her eyes pushed away the fear and replaced it with conviction. Tomoya might've seen that, might've understood that she had no intentions of speaking with him at all, not while the wound in her heart was still fresh, but he wasn't even looking at her face. His gaze was at her hand clenching my shirt and at her close proximity to me. And I suddenly had this sinking feeling.

The Last Boss went through its final fire-spits and died out, leaving us in darkness illuminated by the moon half-shrouded in the clouds.

"Now I see," he muttered. There was no growl, no arrogance, no peace to it. The darkness ensured I couldn't see what face he made, and that terrified me all the more. "So it's true, then. You got yourself a new boyfriend."

My eyes widened. I looked at Jun, who was almost as surprised as I was but composed herself a second later. She said nothing in return, neither confirming nor denying what he accused, and the silence permeating the area was as cold as if summer told winter to take over early.

In true RPG fashion, the Last Boss wasn't done, hadn't even gone through its final form, as it blasted a cacophony of sound, light, and fire again. It startled everyone, light shining through the darkness that carried a ton full of tension and fear, all eyes instinctively returning to the firework. This wasn't planned—heck, none of us understood the reason it was called The Last Boss until its second wind—but the thing about opportunities given to you unexpectedly yet given in such a way that passing it up was too absurd to even consider, the thing about them was that when you've been given a chance, you take it.

Tomoya did just that.

He was next to me in a second, his right fist flying towards my face. I was too slow to react and my cheek tasted powerful kinetic force that sent me flying and falling. Pain visited a fraction of a second later, tagging along Dizziness as his wingman, and they partied around in my head for quite some time. It sounded wimpy to admit that I was down after that one hit, but even burly men get taken down by a surprise attack. That, and his fist felt like an aluminum bat. I should know; this one guy in middle school brought one to the back of my head in an unprovoked attack just because he _suspected_ a "Yankee" had been fooling around with his girlfriend.

My ears picked up shouts and curses, but that one punch still left me too out of it to do _something_ for them. I could only listen, fight through the dizziness, and regain my bearings. I knew the girls were in trouble, their shouts were somehow ringing in my ears, but it was like listening to them underwater. I also knew the loudest shouters were Jun and Tomoya, spouting back-and-forth arguments that probably had some cursing involved—when Jun's pissed, sailors cover their ears before she even opens her mouth.

I felt someone shake my shoulder after I stopped lying and started sitting on the ground. I tried to nurse my searing cheek with a hand unknowingly covered in dirt. Cold wet dirt, to be exact, and it was soothing and, at the same time, disgusting.

"Onii-chan! Onii-chan, wake up! Don't die!"

I tried to speak. It came out too gruff, but it was something anyway. "I'm okay, Maria."

I focused on her face. Tears dropped freely from her eyes, and despite claiming I was fine, loud enough for her to hear, she kept on shaking, kept on sobbing. I looked out to where the others were, but darkness had once more crept in, blanketing my vision to faded figures illuminated by moonlight. I saw Tomoya.

And he was assaulting Sena.

My mind sort of snapped at that point. I ignored reason, shrugged off the pain, and balled my raging fists. His left side was to me and his hands were preoccupied with securing Sena's wrists. I stood up and growled like a rabid dog. He didn't hear. Nobody did. They were too busy with another chunk of chaos I was unaware of, and normally I would've been finding out what the others were screaming about, but most of me centered on those hands and the hate they made me emanate.

At that point, I was out of control. Rage fuelled me as much as those hands of his spread fear at Sena's shaking form. She was shouting in pain, and my rage doubled. I braced my legs and shot off like a fired bullet, shredding grass and mud at my wake, fists shaking and strengthening. Tomoya still hadn't seen me. I cocked one arm back as I willed my legs to go faster, faster. The more he had her in his grasp, the more she would suffer, the more my anger would surge.

He took the hit and fell.

_Payback's a bitch, ain't it, asshole?_

I held no illusions that one hit would take him down. It didn't take _me_ down, and my streetfighting was rusty. So I held my ground, taking up a stance, and waited for him to pick himself off the ground. When he did, he took a look at me, rubbed the dirt off his face, and grinned. I schooled my features; I was not about to let him know that his grin had scared me for a second.

He assumed a boxing stance, and I knew right there and then I was screwed. He had trained his fists for boxing, which explained how out of it I had been over just one punch. But that wasn't most worrying—well, it was in a way, because it amplified the danger. What I found most worrying was the brass knuckles he wore in each hand. No wonder he kept his hands in his pockets all this time. Blocking those things would do more damage than I'd take. Compound that with his power punches, I had to think about bones breaking even in the defensive.

But I still stood my ground. Sena was behind me, scared and frail, though I couldn't afford to check on her, much less _look_ at her, because the last time I turned my sight away from the delinquent ended with me thanking he hadn't broken my cheekbone.

"Little boyfriend thinks he's so tough, huh?" He sneered, unclenched his fists, and clenched them again, harder. They cracked ominously.

I took a deep breath. Fighting him head-on or prolonging this were both out of the question. I had to finish this quick and efficiently. My mean glare would do little to his already intimidating aura. He had terror, he had skills, he had dominion. Trying to scare him into submission would be akin to a kid acting like he could take on an MMA fighter. Going for the kill, it was, but I had to catch him off guard. I only had one opportunity to do this right before he starts laying down the punishment with those brass-knuckled fists. He had to make the first attack. I'd done a lot more dodging than punching or blocking anyway, so this could go okay.

"Little ex thinks she wants him back, huh?" I shot back, and I was rewarded with his gritting teeth. He slid closer to me, still being cautious. I had expected him to throw any and all caution off the window after one taunt, but I was mixing taunts in fiction with what happens in a real fight. Tomoya might be a thug, but he had discipline. I could respect that. The brass-knuckles, however, I could not.

I inched closer to him, concentrating on his arms, looking for the tiniest indication that he was about to go in for the strike. That was my mistake. My eyes kept to his upper body that his legs managed to attack me unaware. I knelt on one knee and he dashed in for the kill with a scream in his throat. I dodged as best I could, but it wouldn't be enough.

So I improvised.

One thing I had done before in previous fistfights was playing dirty. I was often ganged up, five to one, because the other guys thought they could better show their superiority with numbers. I had to fight dirty if I wanted to come out of those bouts relatively okay—teachers were biased about my bruises, always thinking I was the one to blame—so I went for weapons, I went for the knees, I went for the balls, and I also went for the eyes.

Dirt was under me, growing out large patches of grass everywhere in the area. I grabbed a handful during my dodge—that dangerous piece of brass brushing my ear that it felt like being flicked there—and when his face got really close, I smothered him with it, ensuring that most of the mud would be at the eyes and nose. He grunted, tumbled towards me. He must've intended to straddle me after his punch, so he never did stop his forward momentum. My counter had stopped that plan, but not his momentum. I ended up going down with him.

We wrestled in the grass, his left hand on my collar, his right around my neck, both my hands on his shoulders. My back was to the ground. My right knee was between his legs. He sat up, struggling with my will to roll him under, while he tightened the grip on my neck. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being choked, but if he really wanted to take things this far, then I had no qualms about my next course of action.

I kneed him in the nuts. His whole face seemed to bloat like an overinflated balloon, his grip slackened, and a pathetic cry wheezed out of his mouth. I rolled him to the ground and then landed my knees on the joints of both his elbows. His black narrowed eyes bore into me like lasers, and I responded with a small glare and a fist full of retribution. And then another and another and another. He struggled, wiggled, kicked around, trying to swipe my balance, but I held firm and delivered blow after blow onto his face.

"Kodaka!"

I punched him. Punched him. Punched him. Again. And again. And again. And again.

All that kept ringing in my ears was Sena's scream.

"Kodaka, stop it!"

Suddenly I was hugged from behind, slender arms wrapped around my midsection, and just like that, I stopped my assault, my blood rage retreated as if I were a bright burning candle that had been doused with a bucketful of water. Tomoya was already beaten; I had no more reason to beat him up, but I still felt like I had to. He glared at me, teeth grinding, nose bleeding.

"Get the fuck off me," he said, to which I simply complied, despite the danger. Jun, who had been hugging me, rose along with me and then went between me and him, as if she were willing to stop a surprise attack or retaliation once he got back on his feet. No such thing occurred—he remained civil and content at just cleaning up his wounds himself—but I couldn't say for sure if it was because he calmed down or because of Jun's disapproving presence.

"Kodaka," Jun said, her voice tight, resolute, "leave us."

"Are you sure?" My words felt hollow to my own ears. I offered her support, but all I could think about was Sena.

She nodded. And, as if sensing my inner turmoil, she replied, "Someone else needs you more than I do right now."

I took one last glance at Tomoya and then at Jun, spending a moment or two in hesitation, before I backed off and looked for Sena. Tomoya wanted that talk, and now Jun was complying. It was a bad thing for them. She already made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore, not after all that happened before, and his actions today further cemented that notion. He had been quick to lash out because he thought Jun and I were dating, something he had no say on because they had already broken up.

I wanted to sigh. I couldn't understand Tomoya's feelings. I never dated anyone before, so it wasn't as if I could mouth him off for all the trouble and injuries (I did more damage than him, though) he caused. Not completely, anyway, because I couldn't say for certain if I would've done the same after a breakup of my own. I could make emotional guesses, but that was all it would be. Emotions were unpredictable, after all. You'd never know when they had taken control of you, like rabies amplifying your rage or a phobia skyrocketing your anxiety.

I felt that rage when Tomoya hurt Sena.

And now I felt that anxiety when I could no longer find her.

She was right there on the ground behind me when I punched her attacker away, but all that spot had now was disturbed grass and wet dirt. I looked farther and saw the rest of the Neighbors Club huddling together over one of their own, sitting down on the dirt. The Last Boss had spurted its final spark long ago, and the only light helping me see was the partially clouded moon and streetlights that were too far to provide good illumination. Jun and Tomoya were being civil, talking quietly but firmly, when I looked back at them, so I thought it was okay to check on the rest. Besides, with the surprise gone and the fear dissipated, Jun could handle herself fine.

But something kept nagging at me, something that felt wrong but important. I looked over my shoulder every five or so steps, no longer trying to listen as their hushed voices got drowned by the ever increasing sobs from the group in front of me.

Sobs?

I hurried my steps. That voice—

When I came to the scene, Rika was doing her best to act calm and assuring, but the damage done had probably been too steep for even her to shrug off with little regard. Some paces away from them, the tipped over Last Boss lay on the grass, trailing smoke from its mouth like a freshly fired gun. One blue discarded slipper was next to it, strap broken. I walked closer, my eyes still processing what had happened—no, it was _figuring out _what the heck happened. The impossibility was astounding, my mind had trouble trying to organize it all.

"Aniki." Yukimura sauntered next to me, his gaze worried. His hand went to my cheek, the one where I'd been sucker-punched, and his gentle caress over the forming bruise tingled a little. When he saw me react, he pulled his hand away. "My apologies, but I was concerned over your injury."

"It's nothing," I muttered, waving away the concern, as I stepped closer to the crouched, sobbing little form. "Sena."

Her face, covered with her hands, was towards the ground, but when her ears picked up my voice, she turned away from me. She did so because she was most likely ashamed; she refused to let me see her crying. The side effect of that move, however, gave me a full unhindered view of the dark stains on her hair and the back of her shoulders. A small very red spot was on her nape, its color contrasting the white of her skin and the mess the rest of her was in.

"What happened?" I heard myself say, more out of shock than curiosity or bewilderment. There was more to the question than Sena's state, though. I was still figuring out how in the world she managed to get all the way here when she had been attacked by Tomoya not a minute ago.

Yozora, troubling over what words to say, answered, "Meat got . . . into an accident, I supposed."

You supposed?

"Sena-senpai's hair caught on fire," Rika eloquently elaborated, "so Yozora-senpai threw the bucket at her."

Caught on fire? From the Last Boss, you mean? And the only bucket around here was the—

Oh.

Those dark stains were from the ash and unused gunpowder mixed into the bucket's water. And Sena looked to have her whole back splashed with the stuff. The smell reeked and plenty of the dark water had got into her hair as if she had an accident during a dye job.

"That . . . that . . ."

I couldn't finish what I said. Not now, not ever. Not since I realized what really happened.

Sena was never Tomoya's target—I only _believed _it had been her. Between the darkness and the disorientation, I fooled myself into thinking Sena was in danger when it had been Jun all this time. Tomoya had been grabbing Jun, and I saved her. Sena was fighting with fire, and I was none the wiser until the aftermath.

I felt cold. I felt like shit. My hands shook. My eyes turned away from her back.

As if on cue, Stella dashed into the clearing, homing in on her charge. She crouched down, assessed the damages to her hair and clothes, murmured words to Sena, and looked at us. Me, more than anyone, and I got beat by that intense stare. She wanted answers; nobody was giving them, not even me. It was as if everyone had turned stupid . . . or at least unresponsive to the situation, because it was so _alien _to us that we were unable to really think of anything to do than just stand there and be an audience. I was too busy with self-loathing to explain without blowing up.

Anger and despair—they were my companions now, slinging their arms over my shoulders as if we were the best of buds and being best of buds meant that they were free to shower me with burden upon burden until I was on the brink of snapping. My eyes stayed looking at the ground, away from anybody, especially from the one whom I felt I failed the most.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Stella stand up to her full height, and there was no need to look at her eyes to know that she'd refuse to let this problem slither in the dark until one of us shed some light onto it. She asked us the same question I did that felt almost a lifetime ago:

"What happened?"

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Afterword:<strong>

**Jun being Filipino **– this was established while I was creating the character. There was no underlying reason behind this; when the muse says she's half-Filipino, then she's half-Filipino. I could continue the story without ever revealing her heritage (it'd be like an inside secret just for me and me alone), but when the story spontaneously provides an opportunity for it, I took it. There's a whole background history between Jun and Kodaka, which will not feature at all in the main story because the more I flesh out Jun, the more I'm inclined to make her put up a decent rivalry with Sena, which would add up on the word count, which would also add up on the chances of me not finishing this story. Better to stick with what I've already planned than let my imagination run wild more than it already had since this story's conception.


End file.
